


Half and Half

by Kagemirai, Ranranbolly



Series: Hunters [1]
Category: Lost Boys (1987), Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Bloodlust, Caves, Half-Vampires, Hunting, M/M, Murder, Vampire hunting, Vampires, ed is delusional, vampire hunting gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagemirai/pseuds/Kagemirai, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranranbolly/pseuds/Ranranbolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the Lost Boys were supposedly no more, Sam finds himself stuck with a little problem thanks to a little fiasco with Alan Frog. Namely, he's going to have to go on a liquid diet pretty soon if he doesn't get some help. He flips a coin, and decides to go to his brother, first. After all, that's what family's for. Michael's got problems of his own, though. Don't they always?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by the awful sequels, following the lines of the alternate endings in Lost Boys 2. Also, your traditional 'I own the rights to nothing but the products of my sick imagination, and claim no authority over Lost Boys OR Gatorade'. Also, if you don't want to do the math, this is about 8 years after the events in the first film.

_1995, somewhere north of Dallas._

"Hey mom, grandpa. I know I got your answering machine, but I just wanted to let you guys know I'm swinging by for a visit. Yeah, I know it's short notice. I don't have much change left right now, but I'll be there as soon as I can manage. Listen, I'm gonna need to talk to Mike, too...and guys...please don't freak out. I've got some bad news-.." Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of a revving engine, "can't talk much longer. I'll be there when I can. Love you." He hung up the phone with a quick jerking motion and tore back towards his car, eyes darting around in a panic. It'd be a pretty nasty scene if they caught up with him.

* * *

Michael scratched the back of his neck, leaning against the wall when Lucy rewound the tape for the hundredth time that evening to play it again.

"He probably just lost his job. It's probably not a big deal," he told her as he brought his black water bottle to his lips and squeezed. Sam always managed to take the smallest things and exaggerate them just enough to drive mom up the wall, right before coming clean. Rarely did they ever amount to much more than maybe a broken window at worst, and a lost report back in high school at best.

"Michael, he's calling from a payphone. If it wasn't a big deal, he'd have used his house phone first," Lucy rubbed at her temple, pressing stop on the answering machine and pacing back to the kitchen counter, eyeing the window nervously as she drew down the shades and strung up her rosary over the corner of the curtain rod.

He shrugged as he took a seat at the kitchen table and set his water bottle down, just when the old man lumbered in through the door, half-finished root beer in hand. With one quick look at his eldest grandson, Grandpa Emerson looked back over at Lucy, "got the room cleaned out for him. Moved the magazines out to the garage. Bet he'll be happy to see all the new friends he's got waiting in there for him," he chuckled. After Sam had come clean and told him just how he felt about those little beasties, grandpa had started making them twice as gruesome just for a laugh.

Michael grimaced, "you really know how to make a guest feel welcome, grandpa."

"Got your new batch of 'gatorade' ready in the workshop," the old man told Michael with a curl of his lip, "if you're gonna give me lip, though, could dump it in the back garden."

"Dad," Lucy scolded, then glanced back towards Michael with a weak smile as she crossed from the kitchen counter to lean down and give him a quick peck on the forehead. "Star called again today, sweetheart. What do you want me to say?"

He rolled his eyes and got up to follow his grandpa into the workshop, "same thing you always do, I guess. Nothing's changed." Michael reached back to the kitchen table and snatched up his water bottle, taking another swig from it and leaving the room. He didn't _want_ to resent her, because he still cared about Star. Really, he wanted to be _glad_ how different things had seemed to turn out for her and Laddie, but there was a part of him that frankly didn't. What sucked the most was the fact that he still didn't even know _why._

* * *

It was the middle of the day, as he pulled into the driveway. When he saw that carved monstrosity in the front lawn, and heard the telltale sounds of wind chimes, Sam knew he was finally home. It had taken a lot longer than he'd planned, but he really had no idea how tired he'd be during the day. Maybe he shouldn't have underestimated his brother as much as he had over the years. Well, better late than never, he supposed. Sam shielded his mouth with a yawn and slipped on his shades. Then he reached over to his glove compartment and popped it open to grab a bottle of sunscreen, slathering one extra coat over his arms, neck, and face. Maybe he was stalling for time, but he was still trying to get his head together even now.

Climbing out of his junk heap for a car he'd gotten back in his senior year from their dad as a hand-me-down graduation gift, Sam slowly made his way towards the porch. Would gramps be able to tell? Would Mike? Mom? He felt like it was plastered on his face, as he wrung his hands together nervously.

Maybe this was a bad idea...maybe he should've just gone to Luna Bay instead, broke the news to Ed first. Then again, he still wasn't sure whether or not that would lead to a pointless fight wherein Ed would either turn him into a science project, or he'd inadvertently make the same dumb choice Alan had a few days-...Sam shook himself from that train of thought, raising a hand to bang on the front door several times. He didn't want to think about the Frog brothers right now. He'd worry about those respective little problems later.

The first person to greet him was not, in fact, a person at all, but a very old husky lumbering around the side of the house as fast as his paws could carry him, leaving behind a trail of suds and a very distressed-looking Lucy as she tried to yank and drag the water hose behind her. Sam opened his arms wide with a grin to greet the pair, only to immediately find himself tackled to the ground as Nanook dove in for the attack.

"Sam! Nanook!" Lucy shouted, dropping the hose to let it spray over her sandals, and plaster wet grass on her feet. She took off towards them as fast as she could, while Sam was still dealing with the husky's merciless onslaught...


	2. Confession Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As IF he'd hurt Sam. Come on, guys! You know me better than that by now…also, got some inspiration and couldn't help but draft up yet another chapter...aaaaaand it might just be possible this isn't going to be a solo story after all...

It was the stuff of nightmares. Soap suds and water everywhere. Slobber coating Sam's mouth, while he struggled against the death breath of Nanook and his back tooth that still needed to be pulled. He'd only left the husky with them for a couple of months to look after him, and the dog acted as if he'd gone to China for a solid year or more.

"Nanook!" Sam gasped, shoving at the dog's face, "stop!" He couldn't help but laugh as Nanook continued to whine and pant, licking and nuzzling him until Lucy finally made it to the porch, gasping as she clutched at her side and leaned against the railing, shaking her head.

"Sam, I thought you weren't going to be back until August," she finally managed to say, "what made you cut your trip short so early? Oh god, please tell me you aren't missing a toe or..." Her eyes widened as her imagination ran wild and Sam climbed out at long last from beneath his sopping wet best friend.

"No, it's not that," he told her with a slight laugh, rubbing behind Nanook's ears. He glanced over at the hose and then back at Lucy, "you're bathing him outside?"

"Well of course I am!" She continued to pant, "can't you smell the skunk on him?"

Sam wrinkled his nose, and sighed, looking down at the guilty-looking husky. "Again? Seriously?" He wondered why he hadn't noticed the pungent odor before wafting in the air as he tried to grip at the slippery scruff of his dog's neck, "you go inside, mom. I'll finish back here...you know it's not going to get rid of the smell, right?"

"I was filling the baby pool, and I'd just lathered him up when I was going to put him in it," she explained, pointing towards the side of the house, "he just decided to make a mess of it before I could finish," Lucy went on. And as much as Nanook stunk up the whole yard, he was a little grateful to have a dumb distraction like this for a few minutes. Before he had to go inside, take a quick nap, and break the real news to everyone.

"Where's Mike?" He asked before Lucy began to wipe the water off on her apron. She looked up at him with a sad half-smile, "he's in my room. We just finished blacking out the window last weekend so he could get a good long nap before you showed up today. Didn't want to risk you leaving town without seeing him," she explained.

"Why would he think…" Sam shook his head, "right, okay…"

"He thinks you're still afraid of him," she said sadly and pulled open the door.

Sam didn't reply, a little ashamed of himself as he led Nanook away. Okay, so maybe sometimes he let his nerves get the better of him sometimes around his brother during the day, but it wasn't like he didn't have a good reason. Whenever grandpa ran low on...that...Mike got a little scary. Things were going to be a lot different, now, though. Being on the other side of things and all…

"You're smart, why do you keep acting so dumb? You know those rats with perms don't like playing…" Sam scolded his husky as he led him towards his baby pool of certain doom.

* * *

Edgar Frog leaned his freshly-finished board down against the back of his trailer to dry, dusting foam and flecks of thin white dust off of his hands. It had been a week now since he'd heard from Sam, about three since he'd heard from his own brother, and he was already beginning to regret not going on that last hunt with them. A den off the border near Texas they'd heard about, routine scum-sucking extermination. Well, not really routine...more like they were finally going to put one of their many practice drills into action…

But then he'd caught a bad case of Chicken Pox out of the blue, and he hadn't been able to go. The damned doctors wouldn't even let him check out of the hospital, because apparently bed rest and medical treatment were more important than cleansing the world of soulless bloodsucking monsters bent on world domination!

Trying to explain that had only convinced him he needed to stay an extra day, and Alan and Sam decided they couldn't wait much longer. Plus, they thought he'd be a liability. Never mind the fact that having the Chicken Pox would probably make him an even more primed hunter, he tried to reason. After all, nobody wants a meal with itchy rashes all over it...even vampires had to have standards.

He slammed open his door and stomped back inside the trailer, shaking and rocking it in the process as he lumbered to the kitchen to make himself a fresh batch of garlic juice and eggs. Much more of this, and he'd have to get in his car to track both of those jerks down himself to make sure they hadn't gotten themselves into any serious trouble. Edgar was, after all, the leader of the monster bashing crew. They were lost without him.

* * *

Grandpa Emerson peeked through the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of Sam's car outside, untouched. "That boy's been out there for damn near two hours now. Dog can't be that dirty," he grunted, picking up a soapy dish on his side of the sink and rinsing it off to set it on the dish rack beside him while Lucy stood on her side scrubbing another.

"Well, they're probably just bonding. You know how much he loves that dog," Lucy replied, taking a scouring pad to a very crusty pot, "and how many times do I have to tell you to rinse your dishes in the morning when you eat grits?" She scolded him lightly, nearly cracking a nail in the process trying to work away the pasted-on gunk.

"I'm gonna go check on him," the old man decided, shaking flecks of water off of his hands and stomping towards the door.

Lucy gave him a slight frown, knowing full well it was just an excuse to get away from dish duty, but letting him go. He'd spent the best years of his life raising her, she supposed the least she could do was let him skip dishwashing once in awhile in his own house.

What he found outside was not in fact a Hallmark scene of a young man bonding with his aged furry friend, but what more resembled a very poorly-staged death scene, in that he was slumped forward in the overflowing baby pool with his head submerged in the water while Nook splashed about him trying to nudge him out.

"Sam, you dumb-" Grandpa Emerson grunted, running forward to pull his youngest grandson out of the baby pull.

The blonde sat up with a gasp, wiping water from his face, coughing, "whoa..so...fell asleep there," he sputtered weakly, shaking his head.

"Boy, what in the sam hill…" the old man demanded, slapping Sam's face and squeezing his chin, "you lose your mind? What made you think taking a nap in a baby pool was a good damned idea?"

"I wasn't _trying_ to!" He defended, slowly climbing to his feet on wobbly legs, and covering his mouth with a yawn, smiling sheepishly, "just...real tired. Been driving a lot…"

"You get your ass inside and get yourself cleaned up. You think I want to show up in the kitchen, tell your ma you killed yourself in a plastic tub out back?!" He didn't find this in the least bit funny, "and wipe that stupid smile off your face right now, damn it."

"I'm twenty-one, grandpa," Sam defended sleepily, "I'm a vampire hunt-"

"You keep your lip shut and get inside." He shook his head, "I thought you was smarter than this. Don't know what I was thinking…" he shook his head, exasperated. "Need a god damned root beer now, thanks to you…" he grumbled, crossing towards the water spout to turn off the hose. Meanwhile, Nanook padded through the grass, immensely relieved Sam hadn't drowned himself in his bath. The guilt would have likely crushed the poor old husky.

* * *

The most awkward thing about a living room without a tv, is that you really do notice things more. Especially sounds. You notice the house settling, and the way a person's clothing seems to whisper as they shift in their seat, and every single paper crinkle of a page turning in someone's trashy novel or magazine. You notice the slight flicker of the overhead light, and the way the air conditioner sometimes grunts as it kicks on to continue cooling the house down.

In short, for Michael, seated on the couch beside his mother and brother, across from his grandpa in his over-stuffed easy chair, he felt like this surely had to be the longest five minutes he'd ever had to endure. Longer than last fall when Sam had confessed he was dropping out of college to be a freelance photographer, or the following Spring when he confessed again that he was actually planning to hunt down vampires...no, these unbearably quiet living room scenes were rarely ever good.

But, at least...he wasn't the focus of everyone's attention. Grandpa couldn't make gruff remarks about the fact that he should be losing a bit of his hair by now, if he was anything like the rest of the men in their family, or some other little uncomfortable fact that reminded him time and again he had a lot of other things to worry about than just his 'sports drinks'.

Michael leaned forward, propping his elbow up on the side of the couch and nodding to Sam, "you going to come out with it, or what? I've got to get some work done tomorrow, y'know." If he expected any cash that week, he still had to catch up on some sadly-neglected car engines. Stalling during his good hours wasn't going to help him much. Not that he wasn't happy to see his little brother, he just wanted to keep paying rent for his dingy little one-bedroom apartment. The only thing he had to make him feel as if he actually _was_ getting older, and Michael wasn't too keen on losing it.

Sam took a deep breath, leaning down to scratch behind Nanook's ears as the husky cuddled up around his feet. "Mom...I'm about to tell you guys something, and you gotta promise me you're not going to freak out."

"It can't be any worse than anything else we've been through, honey, just please tell me already. Are you engaged? Did you get a ticket?" Lucy paused, putting a hand on his, "Sam, if you're gay...it's okay. I _know_."

"WHAT?!" Sam yelped, "mom, I'm not...NO, no. _No._ A couple of weeks ago, me and Alan were in some caves down in Texas, and one thing led to another…"

"Oh lord," Lucy gasped, pressing her hands to her face and sobbing, "that poor boy! He's dead?!"

"Yes. No. Sort of…" Sam trailed off, "deader than me, but not deader than those assholes Mike screwed around with back in high school-"

"Shut up, Sam," Michael rolled his eyes.

"Michael. Sam." Lucy glared between them both and then looked back at her youngest with a concerned expression, "I think I know what you mean. You don't have to say it."

"It was going okay until about a week or so later, and then we kind of had a fight…" Sam kept going on, and Michael's eyebrows shot up. There was more...of course there had to be. He leaned a bit closer to him, sniffing at the air slightly and frowning. "Welcome to the club," he sighed, putting a reassuring hand on Lucy's shoulder, just in case she had a panic attack. Which she, of course, did.

"Mom, mom, please…" Sam jumped up just as Lucy rushed across the room, pacing and sobbing, while the old man sat back in his chair and silently watched.

"It's not that bad, mom," Sam went on. "I'll just do what Mike does, and everything will be fine, I'll just get a bit of blood from gramps here and there, get a night job, and-"

Michael punched his shoulder and shook his head quickly, mouthing the words, ' _stop talking. You're making it worse.'_


	3. Back in Action

A huge whoop escaped his lips as he led the way into the old abandoned lobby. The group of teens trailed in, drinking and falling into each other, celebrating their discovery of a new hangout. They had literally stumbled on the place the day before and figured it would be a good place to party away from prying eyes. Especially since it seemed like no one knew about it.

"Hey, Fred! Look at this!" A blonde young man said, holding up an old magazine, "Playboy of the '80's!" He started flipping through it while one of the others came over to look over his shoulder. The pages stuck to each other from moisture which he hoped was only water. Images of buxom bleachy goddesses with tastelessly teased hair and perky plastic breasts seemed to melt into each other through the articles, which surprisingly wasn't too bad-looking from an oversexed teenage boy's point-of-view. More to love at once in a very literal sense.

"This place is a dump." A skanky looking redhead sneered, crinkling her nose. Her eyes landed on a group of skittering roaches near one of the rusted-out oil barrels, and she bit back a horrified screech, putting her hands over her mouth and stumbling back with mincing steps, her heels wobbling over uneven ground.

A blonde girl rolled her eyes, flopping onto the ratty old couch, "It's not that bad Samantha, don't be a wuss." A billow of dust and rotted cushion stuffing floated up around her, sending her into a coughing fit, "We could fix it up, clean up some of this dust, it could be a clubhouse," she gasped in between breaths, though her enthusiasm seemed to be fading with each puff of dirty air. There was a distinct aura of mildew and must in the place that begged for about half a dozen gallons of bleach and sumo-strength air freshener.

"There are probably reasons they've got those warning signs on the gates outside," Samantha worried at her bottom lip, just narrowly avoiding slipping into a puddle dripping behind her, "this place is probably a death trap." She paused, looking back at the roaches, "let me rephrase that. This place _is_ a freaking death trap."

"Well, I wouldn't call it a _death_ trap, besides, it's our clubhouse. Welcome to the party."

They didn't see the four teens circle around them, didn't see them block the exit, but they did see them when they finally stepped out of the shadows. Three blondes and a brunette, all with matching grins on their faces.

"Hey…" Fred drew an arm around one of the girls protectively, "you guys...look real familiar…" he stammered, eyes widening. He didn't like the look of those grins one bit. It spelled trouble. He had a distant memory of licking sticky cotton candy fingers and his mom pulling him closer to her while they passed some guys who looked a lot like this on the carousel. But...it couldn't be them. They'd be older now. Not hanging around in some dank cave, looking exactly the same...three of them looked like they could still pass for seniors, and one of them maybe even a sophomore.

The one with the blonde mullet smiled wider, "The new generation doesn't know who we are boys! Fresh meat." He chuckled softly, "I think I remember you, runt of the litter, weren't you? Yeah, you were." He paused briefly, "How would you like to join us for dinner?" He sauntered forward, hands in the pockets of his duster.

"Umm…" Fred swallowed hard, looking at the others, "N-No, I think we're gonna leave, sorry we came into your little clubhouse…"

The one that looked like an '80's rocker grinned, "Nah, we insist! Join us for dinner."

All four of them laughed, "Dig in, boys!"

The last thought that went through Fred's mind as the little one bit him was, 'holy shit, vampires are real.'

* * *

Michael got a sudden twinge in his stomach as he raised his hand to knock on Sam's old bedroom door. Mom had calmed down enough to at least take a couple of valium, but one way or another he was going to have to get some facts straight from his little brother if he wanted to help him.

Rubbing at his stomach, he took a deep breath and waited for an answer. He had an odd sort of defensive feeling about Sam right now, and he wasn't sure he was too happy with it. "Sam, open up," he ground out between his teeth, trying not to raise his voice. Despite his best efforts, it still sounded harsh.

Sam pulled the door open, looking up at him, "What?" He ground out in return, on the defensive.

Michael raised an eyebrow, putting a hand on Sam's chest and pushing him further into the room, "cut it with the attitude," he told him firmly as he closed the door behind him. Mom didn't need to hear this. Nanook was safely outside to air out the remainder of the skunk smell, because it still hadn't worn off, so they didn't have to worry if the old husky got worked up either. "We need to talk."

He scowled, sitting on his bed, "About what?"

"You _know_ what, Sam." He crossed his arms and stared his little brother down, "you're my brother, and I love you. But if you snap or step out of line, I'm not afraid to beat the crap out of you. Got it? No killing." He couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth right now, as if Sam would even think of doing something like that. Still, there it was. And he felt a little better after saying it. Because sure, _Sam_ wouldn't kill, but this wasn't just his little brother he was talking to right now. It was the hunger. The beast growing inside him.

"Dude, why would I eat someone?" He glared at him, "Why would you think I would kill anyone?"

"Because I fight the urge to do it every day," Michael replied flatly. "It's a losing game, that's all I'm saying. I know that. _You_ know that. We don't stake whoever did this...and I'm guessing it's Alan, based on what you said downstairs..." he trailed off. It was a hell of a chore making himself drink several pints of Thumper or Bambi a day, with the occasional Bullwinkle, and he seriously doubted Sam had half as much self-control as he did. The several years of spoiled and hastily re-wrapped Christmas presents were evidence of that.

Then there was the fact that grandpa wasn't getting any younger, and Michael wasn't too sure he'd be able to spare the time to hunt twice as many animals down if the old man kicked the bucket...he wasn't too sure he wanted to bond with his little brother chasing raccoons around the backyard or stray dogs, when other options were scarce. He shook himself from those thoughts, scowling at Sam, "if we don't stake him...eventually you could slip up."

Sam couldn't help what he said next, "What if I did? What if I slipped up and killed someone, what would you do?" He had no idea why he was challenging him like this but he couldn't stop now that he had.

In a flash, Michael leaned forward until he was barely inches away from Sam's face, lips curled back, but not quite angry enough to change his face, "then you're gonna have to run. Because that means I'm going to have to _deal_ with you."

Michael paused, blinking several times as he pulled back and put a hand to his face, hardly believing he'd even done that. Sam was his _brother..._ but...fuck, he wasn't lying. He probably wouldn't be able to control his temper if Sam got out of line. That was an eye-opener, for sure…

Sam's throat worked as he swallowed, "Fuck, Mike…" He swallowed again, "You'd...You'd kill me?"

Michael hesitated. Would he? "...No," he began slowly, picking his words carefully, "I don't think I would. Not if I was in my right mind. Let's not test it, huh?"

"Yeah, let's not." Sam bowed his head submissively, "So, umm, was there something else?"

"Right," Michael dug into his coat pocket, relaxing a little. It wasn't the old jacket he'd bought years ago, but something a bit sleeker, less zippers. Even if he kept his hair the same, he wasn't going to let his wardrobe stay in the 80s. He could just forego wearing a jacket altogether, but he was cold. Always cold.

"Here," he held out a gray flask, "bet you're probably getting hungry. Saw the shifty looks you were giving grandpa downstairs. Look like you're gonna snap soon if you don't do something about it."

Sam snagged the flask from him, bringing it to his lips. His eyes were pitch black, teeth hanging jagged in his mouth as he took a slow drink, his eyes fluttered closed.

Michael jumped in surprise, "holy shit, man."

He stopped drinking, scowling and looking up at him, "What?"

"Your eyes and teeth...Christ…" Michael ran a hand through his hair, "what the fuck _are_ you, Sam?!" He definitely hadn't been prepared for that.

"I'm a shit-sucker." He growled angrily, "Like you, a goddamn shit-sucker."

"Look, maybe when I'm a bit hungry I could use a bit of filing in the front, but damn, it'd take a whole army of dentists to deal with whatever you've got in your mouth...and your eyes...not even Max looked like you. I mean, yeah, he looked like a big ugly freak even when he was normal...and you're not pretty to look at anyway...but...damn." He smirked, sitting down at the edge of the bed beside Sam. Now that he'd put his foot down and told them where they stood, a lot of the tension had melted away.

"When we were killing those asshats I didn't really pay attention to what they looked like. What do _you_ look like?" He nudged his shoulder.

"Dude, don't you remember? You saw me when we had that fight..and when you wrecked my old bike...I haven't changed. At all."

He shrugged, "Trying to lighten the mood. You're fugly."

Without a word, Michael waited until Sam had re-capped the flask, then pulled him into a headlock, pressing a knuckle to the top of his head, "I'm sorry, repeat that," he advised the younger Emerson with a pleasant smile.

"You're fugly! Cut it out! Asshole!"

It was the most merciless noogie session Sam had ever received at the hands of his cruel overlord of a brother. "I'm sorry, repeat that," he said again, "I think I could start a fire doing this…"

He whimpered, "Nothing, I didn't call you anything, you're a god among men." He squirmed, "Come on, let me go."

Michael hummed thoughtfully, giving a few more good twists of his knuckles just to be sure, and finally releasing Sam with a laugh as he jumped off of the bed and tore out of the room. Sam swore and gave chase, running as fast as he could after his brother. Then they both collided with their grandpa, who had a thunderously dark expression.

"Rules," the old man intoned, climbing slowly to his feet with a groan, "there's still _rules_ around here!"

* * *

In all honesty Alan didn't want to be here but he wasn't left with too many options. Sam was out, it was his fault he was in this mess. He would just have to bite the bullet and get this over with. With a sigh he reached up and pounded on the door of the trailer his brother called home.

"Ed! Let me in!"

The door slowly creaked open, to reveal his brother dressed in the usual camo pajamas, covered head-to-toe in calamine lotion, "Alan.." he grunted, "you're alive...that's good." He peered over Alan's shoulder, "where's Sam?"

He pushed his way in, slamming the door and locking it behind him, "I don't know, that's the problem."

"What do you mean?" Edgar lifted up a garlic clove and took a slow bite out of it, spitting bits of skin onto the carpet below him and eyeing his brother with a confused expression. Confusion and distrust were his two main emotions. Nothing new there.

"I need your help to find him, alright?" He rubbed his temples, Edgar was so hard to deal with sometimes.

"He land you with the hotel bill or something?" Edgar asked, licking his teeth and spitting out another piece of garlic skin. Why he never bothered to peel them, Alan would never know.

"No! I don't wanna talk about it, I just need your help, alright?"

"Help with what?!" Now Ed was getting flustered.

"Help me find Sam!"

"WHY?!" Ed threw the half-eaten garlic clove to the ground. "JUST TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Alright, if he had to spill it, he would, "Because he fucking made me half!"


	4. Memories

Michael took a pull from his cigarette as he leaned against the porch railing, eyeing Sam silently. After they'd packed up Sam's trunk with a cooler full of grandpa's latest 'batch' to take back to Mike's place, he hadn't said much of anything. Just watched him. It was unnerving. Nothing new about that, but there was another level to it now. As if Mike was prepared to jump him at any second if he did something stupid.

"Stop staring at me like that." He grumbled.

"Like what?" Michael let out a breath of smoke, much like a sleeping dragon would. Slowly. Languidly.

"Like you're going to attack me." He paused briefly, "What if...what if we find Alan and kill him and I don't go back to normal?" He said softly.

He flicked the ashes from the end of his cigarette, finally breaking eye contact as he glanced out into the darkness in the front yard, frowning, "what makes you think you won't?"

"Because you didn't."

"Star and Laddie did," Michael pointed out, "if you didn't drink as much blood as I did, you'll be fine." That was the excuse he always gave. He'd simply had too much, as if that somehow explained everything away. It was a pretty sorry excuse, but they didn't have any other answer for it. "You can't stay here tonight."

"How much did you drink?" He was going to ignore the fact his brother was trying to kick him out.

"I don't know," Michael shrugged, tucking the cigarette between his lips and glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eyes, "half a wine bottle...maybe more. I was pretty high…it's been eight years, Sam. Give me a break. You have any idea how much you drank?"

He shook his head, "Alan and I...we kind of drank a lot in celebration, I passed out, I thought Alan did too."

He snorted, "sounds like you got date raped. So you got drunk, then you woke up and..." he blew out another puff of smoke, glancing over at the door as if he expected mom to show up at any second to overhear them, "he'd force-fed you some of his blood? How'd he turn without you knowing, first? I'm missing something here."

Sam shrugged, "I dunno. Why can't I stay here tonight?" He crossed his arms over his chest, he was good at deflecting at least.

Michael sighed, "Sam...do you remember when I almost ate you, then Nanook took a chunk out of my hand? You were singing in the bathtub like you'd lost your balls?"

"I was not!" He glared, "What's your point?"

"Nanook is too old to save mom and grandpa if you snap. I've been dealing with this longer, and I've got to tell you...that's not the only time I nearly lost it. Do you want to take that kind of risk? If you stay at my place, you've got no one to eat. I'm pretty sure I can beat your ass if something happens, and that way I can keep an eye on you until we find Alan." He stubbed out his cigarette, glancing back out toward the yard again with a sudden snap of his head, "we're gonna have to leave soon...want to make sure you get a good parking space." There was something off about him, now. In a few short seconds, Mike seemed to have become more guarded. Like there was something out there…

"Mike? What's wrong?"

"Let's get going. I have to get to work in the morning, and I want to get a head start before dawn hits," Michael mumbled, skipping off of the porch, eyes darting about him. "Get in your car. _Now_."

He felt like he was being watched, like there was...something, out there. Whatever it was Michael was off his rocker. Sam could only assume he'd lost his mind. He walked to his car, glancing at his brother every now and then, watching how he tensed, before climbing in. Yeah, being a half-vampire seemed to be getting to his brother.

Michael hopped onto his bike, much nicer than the one Sam had trashed back in high school, and one of the few things he seemed to spend much money on these days. He tore off into the night, scattering bits of rock and grass in his wake.

* * *

David snuffed out his cigarette, eyes narrowed at the scene on the porch. So, Michael's little brother was half, well, didn't that just make things more difficult. His lip pulled back in a snarl, there was nothing more he wanted to do than rip the little shit's throat out for being in _their_ territory. He was surprised Michael hadn't come at least a little close to snapping.

He glanced back at Dwayne, "We've got a little problem, let's hope it doesn't bring a bigger one to our doorstep."

Dwayne nodded silently, leaning forward on his bike and keeping his eyes on the pair as Michael seemed to grow more alert.

Paul clicked his tongue against his fangs, "should've finished this last year. The year before that...before that, even. Davey, I'm getting bored with this shit," he complained, letting his head fall forward to dramatically land against one of his bike handles. He flinched, sitting back up and rubbing at his forehead.

Marko grinned, nudging Paul's shoulder and putting a finger to his lips to quiet him, just as Michael and Sam were climbing off of the porch. David watched them go, he wanted to do _something_ , he just wasn't sure what. Michael was getting close to being ready, no matter how much he might deny it, but he wasn't there yet. Lucy and the old man really couldn't have too much time left. It would just take one of them, and he'd drop his defenses. He'd let go. Then he would be his.

"Stars in your eyes?" Paul snarked, blowing a tuft of hair out of his face. They were gradually changing with the times, but the rocker had a hard time parting with his hair. It would take a mid-morning scissor session to convince him.

Dwayne rolled his eyes, watching the Emerson brothers drive off. Not that they didn't know where Mikey lived. They always knew where he was, on some level.

"And how would you suggest we finish this? Hmm?" David asked, glancing at Paul.

"Wait until he's got a night shift," Marko butted in, just before Paul could make a lewd comment, "slash up that girly he works with...all that blood? He'd snap like a fucking twig." Marko paused, "I would anyway...she's got great tits…" He held up his hands, imitating the sort of gesture Paul would probably have done if he could get a word in edgewise.

David rolled his eyes, "And how would he feel after the fact?"

"Pissed," Dwayne smirked. "Royally."

"It ultimately has to be totally on him when he finally snaps, not us. He has to be the one to let go, and he will, no matter how hard he struggles, no matter how long he fights, in the end, he's ours. We could make him snap but I'm not going to deal with a resentful fledgling."

Dwayne gave David a thoughtful look, smirking as he glanced back towards the driveway. He was usually quiet, but not _this_ quiet.

Marko poked him in the shoulder, "What're you thinkin' 'bout?"

He shook his head, "I can't believe you haven't figure it out yet, David."

David scowled, "What?"

Dwayne nodded in the direction the pair had left, "use this. Nudge his brother a little...get him worked up. _Make_ Michael come looking for us. That's all there is to it."

The others exchanged dark, gleeful looks, eyeing David hopefully. It was all up to him. Max wasn't around anymore, after all. _David_ was the head vampire now. He had been for quite some time.

* * *

"So...that's what happened, huh?" Edgar sat at his tiny kitchen table, shaking his head sadly. "Can't believe he cracked like that. Left you out there in the middle of nowhere with a dead body…" He wrinkled his nose. The thought was enough to put him off his dinner. "I really thought Sam was stronger. Like us."

"He always has been, strong, dealing with his brother…" Now that he thought about it, what if Sam went to Michael? He shook his head, no way, "How do we wanna go about this?"

"One more time, just so we're clear," Edgar tapped the tabletop with his index finger, clearing his throat, "so you both got hammered, had an argument, went to sleep...and you were camping right around where you took out that nest...then in the morning, you woke up...had blood in your mouth...were sleeping right by a dead body...and Sam was gone. No car. No nothing...is that it?"

"Yeah, that's right." He scowled, "Why?"

"That's a real dick move," Edgar grunted. "Let me just get some ointment for my flesh-eating bacteria, and we'll get going," apparently his 'disease' had gotten even worse while they were gone.

He rolled his eyes, "Ed, your skin isn't falling off." How long was he going to have to deal with this? "Honestly, let's plan, get your mind off it."

"If he's teaming up with the ape, I'm pretty sure the other one'll probably snap too. All that vampire pressure will be too much for him…" Ed replied, ignoring Alan's irritated remark, "gotta pack up the car with extra stakes...couple of bibles, too. I've got a quart of holy water in the sink, could make some balloons…" he started listing off an arsenal of ideas, none of which he'd actually given to Alan and Sam _before_ they'd gone on their hunting trip.

Of course Edgar would never help them out when he was on one of his health binges. He supposed he needed to be half turned more often if it got his brother off his ass and out of the trailer.

"Think I still got his apartment address somewhere in my desk…" Edgar went on, pacing the trailer as he snatched up a few discarded shirts on the ground to take on their trip to Santa Carla, which was barely twenty miles away. "Sneak up on them in the middle of the day...gonna have to make sure you stay awake...maybe use my old taser, just in case…"

* * *

Sam glared at his brother's back. The brunette was standing outside on his porch, smoking yet _another_ cigarette. What had gotten him so worked up? The entire ride over here he caught him glancing over his shoulder. He'd wait until he finished his smoke before bringing it up. Mike tended to get pissy really easily, Sam was having the same problem lately if he was being honest.

The door slid open, and Michael was stepping inside, glancing over at Sam, "you want to hang out here in the morning or do you want to go to the garage with me?" He rasped, scratching at his chin. He looked like he was calming down a little, but that didn't stop him from locking the door to his porch and reaching over to snag a chair and push it up against the handle.

"I'll go with you but Mike, what's wrong? What was up with leaving without saying bye to mom?"

Michael's shoulders slumped as he crossed over to his living room couch and slowly sat down beside his brother, "she was asleep. Didn't want to bug her…" He looked at Sam, and opened his mouth, then shut it again, shaking his head and glancing back towards the door. Sometimes pulling anything out of Mike was like yanking teeth.

"Dude, don't lie to me, come on, tell me the truth." He crossed his arms over his chest, "I need to know."

His brother looked at him again, and threw his head back with a groan, "you...I wouldn't be telling you this shit right now, but since you've pretty much royally fucked your life up, I guess it's time to spill...just...keep this between us, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I get it, just tell me."

Michael took in a deep breath and let it out, "you remember when I used to blast the radio all night? After the fight? When Star and Laddie left?"

He nodded, urging him to continue, knowing better than to interrupt.

"It's because I wasn't alone," he stated flatly. "I just didn't want you to hear."

"What do you mean?" He didn't get it, how could he not have been alone? "Who was there?"

"Are you fucking serious?" Michael turned to level him with a glare, "Sam. I know you killed a few brain cells hanging around those Frogs, pretty much _throwing_ yourself into trouble, which is why you're like this...by the way...but you can't be dumb enough not to follow what I'm getting at right now."

"They're dead! How could they have been there? Why'd you let them in your room?"

He sighed, "okay, just...listen. Don't ask me any questions until I'm done talking, because I'm only going to tell you this once.."

* * *

_Late Summer, 1987..._

A minute after grandpa closed the fridge, an unease settled over the household, Star and Laddie embraced each other again. Two minutes after that, Michael realized something still didn't feel right. About an hour after that, grandpa knew there was still a problem. Especially when they walked by the mirror. Even though Sam was already desperate to rush back to where the disaster scene still lay, untouched, grandpa had very firmly insisted that he make sure Lucy took the Frog brothers home first. With half of the house out of commission now, they didn't have any room for extra guests.

It was an excuse, of course. An excuse so they could have a little chat in the workshop, away from prying eyes and ears. Star was too shocked to do anything but go along with Lucy and the others. She decided right then and there that she'd leave in a few days, the minute she was able to get Laddie's parents on the phone. Didn't even bother meeting Michael's eyes. It stung. Like he was the monster, not David. Not Max. _Him._ Michael had never felt so alone.

"You still not feelin' right?" Grandpa asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Michael remained silent as he gently closed the door, giving a quick shake of his head, focusing intently on a very fascinating speck of dirt on the ground.

"Michael, talk to me, you should be back to normal. Why aren't you?"

He shrugged, "I pushed Max in the way...I sort of staked another one of them…" he licked his lip nervously, glancing back up at the old man, "you seem to know a lot about this shit, grandpa. You think those counted as a first kill?" Was he...had he completely turned? Oh god...

He shook his head, "Wouldn't be a first kill." He paused, "Sort of staked? Where is he?"

Michael nodded his head in the direction he knew David's body was lying, afraid to even look at it. He didn't want to ever see the blonde again, even in death, if he could help it.

"Let's go take a look." He expected the brunette to follow as he headed toward where he motioned. He wasn't wrong. Michael trailed after him, dragging his feet and drawing his shoulders up in preparation to lock eyes on his handywork for hopefully the last time...but when they got there… "No one here, you sure you got it in the heart?"

"I…" Michael faltered, looking about, glaring at the blood-painted horns, willing David to magically appear as he drew closer. He raised a shaking hand to touch it, to remind his sleep-deprived mind that this was not in fact a trick of the light...and all his fingers touched was nothing but slightly dampened horns. Nothing else. "Couldn't have missed…" he shook his head, looking back up at his grandfather with a wild look in his eye, "he had to have a dozen sticking out of him! I couldn't have missed!" Michael was beginning to panic.

He grabbed his grandson by the shoulders, "There's no other explanation, none of them pierced the heart. Must have been his blood, not Max's that you drank."

Michael glanced back towards the door nervously, "there's others...Sam nailed one of them back at their...home...two more dead, too...I _saw_ one of them. David's going to _kill_ me!"

"Easy, we'll go check." He paused, "Might not want to kill you. We'll go check the others, see what happened." He didn't mention that if David wanted to kill him he'd probably draw it out to make him suffer.

The kitchen was a mess. The bathroom totaled. The stereo would have to have a glorious funeral...but there was no scrap of fabric, no shard of bone, nothing to indicate they'd ever been there beyond the collateral damage to the house. For all they knew, it could have just been the result a couple of burst pipes and poor decisions. He could probably file an insurance claim and get the place fixed without a problem. Still wouldn't fix Michael, though…

"I don't understand," Michael whispered, running a hand over the ground where he knew damned well Dwayne's twitching, charred arm should still be. Right where they'd left it. "I don't understand…" he repeated under his breath, closing his eyes and biting back the taste of bile in his throat. This was all just one sick, endless nightmare...and he was getting hungrier by the second, too...

"We'll have to be ready, they're gonna come back." He narrowed his eyes, "Gonna have to figure out something for you to eat too before you decide one of us looks good."

Those words echoed in Michael's head over and over for the rest of the night, until Sam got home and they had to make up some lie about burying the bodies in the back. Until he calmly explained to his sobbing mother the next morning when she couldn't wake him up after twelve that his schedule was pretty much staying the same, and even if he'd planned to go back to school in the first place, it definitely wasn't an option anymore. Those words echoed in his head again and again when Star took Laddie to the bus station, promising she'd call him every week until he fixed himself. She'd 'wait' for him...safely across state lines, of course. They echoed and echoed and echoed until he thought he'd go crazy. Then, one night, a week after Star left, while Michael was holding his nose and downing a pint of rabbit's blood in his bedroom, so Lucy wouldn't have to see him do it while she served up spaghetti bolognese in the kitchen...the echoing stopped. Instead, it was replaced by a scratching sound at his bedroom window.

" _Michael…"_ His name seemed to rattle around in his head, " _Open the window, NOW."_

Calmly setting the glass aside, Michael stood up from the fold-out couch they'd had to drag into his room to replace the sadly destroyed remnants of his bed. He steeled himself as he tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and grasped at slender, sharp sticks...edging towards his bedroom radio to flip it on as loud as it could get. The signal for grandpa to keep an eye on the family. Then, without batting an eye, he approached his window and stared out through the glass into two very angry yellow eyes. David glared at him, impatience and anger vying for dominance on his face.

Keeping one hand firmly tucked into his pocket, Michael reached forward and flipped open the lock on the window. He wasn't sure why. He just felt...compelled.

David was the first one in, yellow eyes remaining locked with Michael's, "That little stunt you pulled, completely uncalled for." The others followed, all of them, even the one Sam had _sworn_ they staked back at the hotel, "We could have talked it through, had a nice chat about all of it, but then your little brother and his friends had to go and stab Marko, he's still pissed about it, by the way." Marko nodded, lifting his hands and giving a small little snarl, then grinning when Michael took one quick step back in fear.

He _should,_ pull out the thin stake he was grasping in his pocket. Should bite out some sort of dark retort, take one of them out at the risk of knowingly signing his own death warrant...but he didn't want to. Not really. That, and he was legitimately surprised they weren't already attacking him. "...Wha...what?" Michael blinked several times, looking about at the others, thoroughly and hopelessly confused.

"Talk, like we're doing now. Damn Michael, you can be dense sometimes." They all laughed, "What's gonna happen now, is we're gonna have a nice little chat about the way the world works for you now. See, you're _my_ halfling, my blood is in your veins, just like I told you before, and that isn't changing." He sat down on the bed, reclining back slightly, "You do have some options though. We can spend the next few nights talking, hash out the details, and life can go on for awhile until you snap and feed or, you can fight but Michael, if you fight, we're gonna take out your family, make you watch, and then you're gonna feed. Hell, I might even make you feed on one of them. So, what do you have to say?"

Michael released the stake in his pocket and pulled his hand out with an exasperated sigh. He _knew_ the albino bastard wasn't lying. There really wasn't much of a reason to. Not to mention, Michael wasn't exactly in any position right now to make demands. Telling them to all fuck off and die again would only make the second option David had just given him that much more likely to come to pass. His glance slid across the room towards his bedroom door, and for a split second he wondered if he could get away. The thought, while appealing, was a stupid one. No. That wasn't an option. He took a deep breath, then he spoke.

"You're a dick."

He raised one elegantly curved eyebrow, "Really? Why don't you tell me what you want to talk about."

"If it's your blood, why did Star go back to normal? Why did Laddie? And how are you all still alive?" Michael pulled the chair out from beside his desk and sat down, not offering any courtesy to the remainder of the boys. They were, after all, the epitome of uninvited guests.

"Star and Laddie were Max's creations. As for the whole still being alive thing, well, remember the maggots, Michael?" He chuckled softly, "Yeah, you do." Michael's lack of hospitality didn't seem to bother the others much, they found places to lounge, looking right at home, totally at ease with each other and Michael, "I'm good at surviving, always have been. It's gonna take a lot more than a lucky shot to get rid of me. I'm not stupid." It was obvious he was talking about Max with regards to level of intelligence, "What else do you want to know?"

He could still do it. He could pull that little stake out of his pocket right now. Maybe grandpa was ready for them downstairs, just waiting...but...no. There was no way the old man could take them all on. For one, driving through the side of the house was probably not going to work a second time. Michael honestly couldn't believe he was having this conversation. He wasn't sure if he'd even begin to be able to wrap his head around how absolutely ridiculous this whole situation was. "Can't you take it back?" He pressed on, "I'm not a killer. I don't _want_ to be one. If you honestly think I'm ever going to willingly harm another person, or...feed..." the word made him want to shiver, as if just saying it was reminding him how disgusting his primarily liquid diet for the last week had been, "...you're going to be waiting for a very long time."

"Then we'll wait. It's not something that I can take back, even if I wanted to, which I don't. Eventually you'll feel differently about the whole thing but I get it, for now, you can sit here, drink Bambi, and wax poetic about humanity, I'm sure Dwayne would love to listen to whatever poetry you come up with. Besides, I'm a patient man, eventually you'll get tired of eating animals or you just won't care anymore and the next bimbo you see on the boardwalk will just look too good to deny yourself any longer. We'll be waiting for you. Until then, we're more than happy to hang out, chat, go for a ride, whatever."

The rest of the night was surprisingly chill, save for a few calculating thoughts Michael had about getting rid of the boys. It was a lot like the night he'd jumped off the bridge, at least before the fated semi-final step to his 'initiation'. As much as he struggled to drum up his anger and resentment, his noble heroism he'd somehow managed to find the minute before he thought he'd killed David, it was a tenuous feeling. Eventually, they left, and it was as if they'd never been there. Except...he felt a lot calmer than he had in over a week. Relaxed. Like he'd been sedated, just being around them.

All of that, of course, didn't stop Michael from trying to flee Santa Carla the next day, telling himself the distance might keep his family a bit safer. Too bad he slept in. It was nearly sunset by the time he was about ten miles from the city limits.

" _Go ahead and cross that line, Michael. Bet you're gonna be mighty hungry in a few minutes, enjoy the drifter on the side of the road."_ David's warning rang through his mind, it was almost as if he was right there on his bike with him. He nearly wrecked his bike with the sense of surprise and fear crawling its way from his belly, and the roaring of his hunger come to life once more. Worse than it had ever been…

Maybe if he sped up. Got somewhere with less people...he tried to ignore David's voice in his mind, but there really wasn't any ignoring that churning pain. That _need._ He was so very hungry, the further away he got, the worse it became. Until it was almost all he could think about.

" _Why don't you turn around and come back? It's getting hard for me to keep you from jumping the next person you see."_

Gradually, he pulled to a stop, taking deep panting breaths as he tried to steady his hands, turning back to look down the road the way he had come, and then up at the last few rays of the dying sun, " _you're...holding it back?"_ He thought, hesitantly, not sure if this conversation was a two-way street or not, but needing to force himself to focus on it so he didn't lose his mind.

" _The closer you are to me, to the pack, the easier it is to help take a little bit of that hunger."_ David almost sounded a little strained, " _Why don't you come back and we can talk about it? Bet you're full of questions now."_

Michael mentally cursed David to a thousand unpleasant things, and the mental images were very vivid as he began to drive back. But he was right...some of the hunger seemed to be abating a bit more. He'd wait until it was at least far enough at the back of his mind that there was no immediate danger to any passersby, and then he'd take a swig from his flask he kept tucked under his jacket. Better than nothing, he decided. Better than killing.

After about a month of their nightly visits, he could honestly say he had stopped really giving a damn about what he was becoming, or what he'd become. Stopped caring about a lot of things, except maybe finding a job, which he'd somehow managed to do. During the day, when he forced himself to climb out of bed and at least somewhat pretend to resemble a member of the human race, meeting Lucy's worried looks began to wear on him. Or listening to Sam's ideas and plans on figuring out how to fix him, ideas as stupid as finding a German doctor or some shit, because apparently all German doctors know how to deal with vampires...if you listen to any of the bullshit those Frog brothers liked to spout off.

Then it happened. On his first day of work, he realized every single person who met his gaze became immediately uneasy, or rushed to get their business done as quickly as possible just to get away from him. He realized he actually _liked_ listening to the sounds of their racing hearts, imagined how fun it would be to pursue them...to just give in and kill…

He couldn't come up with any reason not to, except for his family. It sobered him up enough to worry that soon enough, he might not even care about _their_ lives anymore. That was the day Michael decided to move out. It was also the last time he ever saw the boys up close, and spoke with them. Or at least, David. He was the only one to show up that night when Michael was packing up his room.

David slipped through the window, crossing his arms over his chest and watching him, "Gonna be the last visit for awhile." He said conversationally, "Time to lay low for a bit, disappear, people aren't as much fun anymore."

Michael nearly dropped his weights in the process of moving them, turning to look at David in stunned silence.

" _If_ you want to be around us, hangout, it's gonna be when you decide to come live with us and accept what you are." The look on his face was knowing, he knew Michael didn't want to be away from them. There was the bare minimum of anything human left in his system, and the idea of being away from...well... _pack..._ it was more than a little unnerving.

"How long are you laying low?" He asked quietly, kneeling down to set his weights on the ground beside a small pile of boxes.

He shrugged, "Gotta change with the times. Don't get me wrong, we'll still be around, just not out in the open. The hotel is still home, we'll be there, waiting, but we generally disappear for a few years, ten or so? It depends on how fast people are to forget. Not many people have long memories."

Definitely not the dead ones, for sure, Michael thought privately, running a hand through his hair as he watched David leave, and absolutely _nothing else_ happened after that.

* * *

"They were out there? That why you freaked out? What were they going to do?" Sam demanded, the instant Michael had stopped talking. Sam's eyes were wide with newfound terror; this, piled on top of the anxiety and fear of what he was becoming...he was pretty sure he'd never touch a shit-sucking vampire again if he got out of this alive.

"Probably eat you. Stake you. Maybe both." Michael was painfully blunt.

"But why? They said they wouldn't touch us. They've kept that promise, why would they break it now?"

"I think…" Michael tapped his foot on the carpet and leaned forward, clasping his hands over his knees, "I got a feeling when we were back at the house. Before they showed up. For a second, I kinda wanted to rip your throat out, too...maybe it's because you're different. Not one of them...a rival? Intruder? Not sure. Either way, the sooner we get you fixed, the better." He paused, tensing his shoulders, "I'm not strong enough to protect you, Sam. If Alan shows up here before we find him, you're toast. Both of you."

* * *

He was itching to smoke another cigarette, but now that Sam was comfortably sleeping in the living room couch, Michael was forced to let it rest for now. He had a few hours to sleep, then he'd probably go into work a little after mid-day, once he was physically capable of actually waking. There was of course, one final part of the story he'd left out. No way in hell he'd tell Sam about that fucking kiss David pretty much decided to force on him as a parting gift. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his half-smoked pack with a grumble, sneaking towards the door. One cigarette, just one more. Then he could maybe stop thinking about all those old memories he drudged up. Hell, maybe he could force himself to pretend he hadn't sort of _liked_ thinking about that stupid kiss. David was such an asshole. Even when he wasn't around.

* * *

"DUDE! SICK! STOP! ALAN, CONTROL YOURSELF!" Edgar shouted, standing beside the car in the middle of the road, where his brother had wildly forced them to stop so he could pursue a possum on the side of the road...and...well…

"Shut up asshole! I'm hungry!" He grumbled, tossing the leftover possum into the bushes before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "Would you rather I eat you?"

Edgar panicked, whimpering, rubbing his neck brace and reaching into the car to grab at the rosary/air freshener dangling over the dash, "a burger...you could've gotten a _burger,_ Alan!"

"I'm not gonna do anything asshole! Let's just get in the car and go, alright?" He gave him a wide berth as he moved past him to the car. Unfortunately, before he could tear open the door and pretend he was beating his brother over the head with it, a slow, soft clapping interrupted their little tête-à-tête.

"Really, your stupidity is astounding." The gentleman, because that's the only word to describe him, that stood before them was in his 40's, "Where are you young men heading, in the middle of the night…" he paused, "with one of you eating possums on the side of the road." He chuckled, "It's so degrading."

Ed narrowed his eyes at the man, looking about. There was no other car. Very few buildings around. Where had the guy come from? He lifted a hand, "look, sir...what you just saw...didn't happen. It's very dangerous to be around my brother right now. He's just escaped from the hospital, and he isn't himself today. Forgot the happy pills. Don't worry about it...you just...you should go, before he starts cracking up," he made a shooing gesture, hoping the guy would get the hint.

Alan glared at his brother silently, before glancing back at the guy and slowly pulling the car door open a little wider.

He shook his head, "Alan, yes? Wasn't that the name your little friend called you?" He questioned.

"Ed, get in the car. Get in the car. GETINTHECARGETINTHECAR!" Alan panicked, slapping the hood of the car as he dove into his seat and buckled himself in, "GET IN, GET IN, GET IN!" He shouted, slamming the door and locking it. Ed stood, staring at the man, caught in his gaze and swaying slightly on his feet. "GOD DAMN IT, ED!" Alan leaned over and slapped his hand on the car horn several times.

He chuckled softly, "Alan, why don't you come out and we can have a little _talk_."

Alan unbuckled his seatbelt angrily, climbing over into Edgar's set and reaching out through the opened driver's door, shaking his head to ignore the man's...the vampire's...clearly the surviving _head vampire's_ words from his mind, grabbing at his brother's hand to try and yank him into the car. It was like pulling on a dead weight. He wouldn't budge...and now he had a dumbass goofy smile on his face, too.

"I'll let him go if you come out and talk." He stated calmly.

Biting his bottom lip, Alan stared out through the rear window, terrified for his life. But more so for his brother's. A selfish part of him almost wanted to drive off and leave Ed to his problem, but the much larger portion who actually did care about his brother made him climb out of the car and reluctantly face the monster in front of them. "Go to hell," he bit out between his teeth, digging under his shirt to grab at a small water-gun packed with holy water.

"Was that so hard? You are of my blood, I could force you, but I'm curious how this little scenario is going to play out. I'm still unsure why it is that you didn't question the fact that Sam appeared to have turned you. Did it even cross your mind that things didn't exactly happen the way they appeared to?"

He squeezed the water-gun tightly, pulling it out and aiming it at the vampire, "so Sam's half? Or did you kill him? YOU KILLED SAM?!"

He rolled his eyes, "Sam is half, like you."

Alan looked over at his brother, who he swore had never looked as dumb or head over heels for someone since high school when one of the cheerleaders ripped her pants and went commando that day. "So...there's still time to kill you, then…" Alan replied, drawing his upper lip back in a snarl as he pulled the trigger...unfortunately, he was just a little too far away for the water to hit its target. _Shit!_

"You can't attack me, Alan." He chuckled softly, "You can try, however the blood won't allow it."

"What do you want from us?!" Alan demanded, shoving his brother behind him and standing in front of Ed protectively. Despite their differences, he wasn't going to let this shit-sucker get another victim. No way in hell.

"I want to watch the two of you snap, watch as you feed and become mine. Pretty simple." He stated calmly. He paused. "But first, I think I'd like to spend a few days _relaxing._ I'm sure that friend of yours will still be ready for us when I'm done with you both."


	5. The Deal

It was about half past about two in the afternoon when Sam's dreams of blood and death were interrupted by a migraine-inducing alarm. He didn't want to be up right now, his body was protesting the fact that there was a klaxon blaring in the apartment. A low groan escaped his lips as he rolled off the couch, hitting the floor with a solid thump.

"Mike! What the hell man?!" He groaned, rubbing his eyes, "Make it stop!"

His older jerk of a brother wasn't around to taunt him for sleeping later. In fact, he didn't even seem to be thumping about in the damn place getting dressed. Aside from that fucking alarm, there was nothing to indicate he was even there. Sam grumbled, stumbling to his feet and shoving himself against the bedroom door, pushing it open. He had to make it stop, one way or another.

He'd been to Mike's place before, but he'd never been in his room. It was a little jarring. Practically empty, except for maybe a small pile of dirty clothes in the corner, a small bedside table with that stupid damned alarm clock screaming for the whole complex to hear its complaints, and a few trashy tit posters hanging on the walls...but...no bed. No cot. Nothing else…

Where was he sleeping? He stumbled in, slamming his hand down on the clock to finally make it stop, "Mike?" He glared around the room, had he already left? He went over to the window, squinting into the light, no, his bike was still there, parked below like a silent black sentinel in the parking lot, "Hey, asshole, where are you?" The bathroom was empty too, where was he? In the closet? It was the only place left. He threw open the door and nearly screamed, his brother was hanging, amongst his clothes, by his feet from the bar, "Fuck!"

Michael's eyes snapped open, wide, yellow, feral…and then he yelped, gracelessly collapsing to the ground when his feet released their grip on the bar above, "FUCK!" He shouted back, scrambling on the ground as he tried to untangle his legs from a few pairs of jeans that had fallen with him in the process. "Sam!" He snapped, glaring up at his younger brother, his eyes having safely reverted to their disturbing, but very human blue.

"Fuck! You were fucking hanging you fucker! The alarm wouldn't stop!"

"You screamed in my face, you dick!" He snapped right back at him, climbing to his feet and leaning against the doorframe, "Jesus Christ…" There had never been such a stream of curses exchanged between the two brothers, but their sleep-deprived minds didn't seem to notice, in the face of Sam's uncomfortable discovery of his brother's sleeping arrangements.

Michael poked him in the chest, pushing Sam out of the way as he reached out with one free arm to blindly grasp at a shirt and throw it over his shoulder, "knock. Knock next time," he grumbled, stumbling towards the master bedroom. "Bread...toaster in the kitchen...butter...help yourself," he mumbled in a garbled phrase, still barely coherent.

"How can you sleep like that? Am I gonna sleep like that? Fuck, you were like dead, the alarm was going off. No way knocking would have woken you up."

Michael's only response was slamming the door behind him, followed by the immediate rush of water. His brother had always sucked when first waking up but now he was worse. He didn't want to think that he would ever end up like that. He stuck his bread in the toaster, pushing down the button, how had they wound up like this? A pair of half vampire brothers. He shook his head, they could both be fixed. He turned to look at the bathroom door. He'd do whatever it took to make sure that they both made it out of this alive and human. Now that he knew the albino bastard was still alive, they had a target at least. He still wasn't sure what to think about what his brother had told him the night before. After 8 years, how much of his brother was really left, he wondered. Sure, he looked like him, talked like him, but was it really him anymore?

"Sam!" Michael shouted from his bathroom, "toast. Make toast for me too!" He added grumpily, which at least seemed to border a little on the normal side of asshole bigger brother. Maybe there still was a little of the old Mike left. The annoying parts, anyway. It was another good half hour before he finally stumbled into the kitchen and snatched a plate from the counter, shoving room temperature toasted bread into his mouth and grumbling under his breath before slipping the plate into the kitchen sink. "C'mon...you can sleep in the office," he informed him curtly, "we'll take your car."

"You're mean in the morning." He yawned, rubbing his eyes, "Let's go." He grabbed his keys and stumbled outside, "Too bright, how do you deal with this?"

Michael shrugged in response, shoving a pair of sunglasses on his face, "I manage. Don't worry...we'll fix you…" The journey to Sam's car was a bit of a hassle, but they did finally manage to make it, Michael occasionally giving him a concerned frown, "you think you can manage driving right now?"

"Better than you can." He snarked in return before pausing, "What about fixing you?" He asked, getting behind the wheel, "I mean, we know who the head vampire is for you too."

Michael grunted noncommittally and let his head rest against the passenger window. That asshole was just using his car as an excuse to get an extra nap!

* * *

"Hey, honey," Georgia whispered, tapping on the office desk to rouse Sam as she placed a styrofoam cup of coffee near his hand, "your brother told me you'd need a pick-me-up right about now. So, you've got the flu, huh?" She smiled down at him, tossing back her short blonde ponytail over her shoulder. The shop secretary, and the only person who pretty much ever talked to the customers. She made sure Mike didn't scare them away when he was on duty.

He nodded, smiling at her, she was pretty, "Yeah, thanks." He wrapped his hands around it, enjoying the warmth, "So, what's it like working with Mike?"

She ran her hands over her blouse, straightening out the wrinkles, "that's a funny question. You know your own brother, don't you? Is he different at home? Doesn't talk much. Does his job… _never_ flirts, never even catches a hint," she rolled her eyes dramatically, "he's a nice guy when you're not making eye contact. Otherwise…" she leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile, "I don't think he's much of a people person."

He laughed, couldn't help it, "Yeah, he wasn't always like this ya know. There was an accident a few years back and he didn't come out of it quite the same." He glanced toward where his brother was working, "He used to flirt all the time, biggest jock in school." He shrugged, "He's still a good brother though at least."

Georgia smiled, "well, that's good to hear. Nice to know I'm not working with a psychopath," she laughed, pulling away from the desk and heading towards the door, "let me know if you need anything else, hon. Not a lot of clients come in on Sundays around here. I've got plenty of free time." It was amazing how little she seemed to be affected by Mike's personality, but...well, sure he always had that creepy attitude going for him, but...he wasn't a bad guy. Didn't act like one. Never went out of his way to mess with people. Yeah, deep down, he was still the same person. Sam just had to remind himself occasionally. Plus, now he was definitely getting a whole new perspective on things...especially the hunger side of it…He shook his head, if Michael could do this so could he.

It just didn't seem to make sense that Alan apparently couldn't…

* * *

He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair he was sitting in. Things had changed so much in the years since he went into hibernation. He needed to consider the future and think about reforming a pack. Alan and Sam were like the others that had stumbled upon his resting place, accidents. Feeling threatened, he did the only sensible thing, make the invaders controllable. He supposed that's what brought the hunters to his door in the first place. At least he had entertainment now and he was feeling much better after feeding on the owner of this lovely house. In fact, his last meal had returned his youth to him.

It had been a shame to lose all of his 'children', but they were rather useless, in the grand scheme of things. Explorers, hikers, drifters, a hodge-podge of innocents and the very lowest common denominators of the human race, who made their first kills and immediately crawled down into the darkness to rest beside their master for the ensuing decades. In truth, the bumbling fools known as Sam and Alan had somehow managed to relieve him of the burden of getting rid of them on his own. He simply couldn't abide with weak 'offspring', as it were. Hopefully this new generation would fare much better, now that he planned to stay awake for a few decades and guide them.

Edgar, no longer a silent and dazed victim of poorly chosen eye contact, was bound and gagged in the corner of the room. Alan, on the other hand, was standing nervously in the doorway, watching him. Forced to be the audience to his meal last night, lest his brother become part of it, the hunter was much less brash in the early hours of a new evening.

"Tell me something, Alan, things have changed over the years. Technology is fascinating, what can you tell me of the changes that have been wrought in this world. Communications, attire, share with me what you know." He licked a stray drop of blood off his fingers.

"...Cars...dishwashers...game shows," Alan replied quietly, moodily.

"A little louder, Alan, be polite." He could at least instill in him a sense of respect.

"SKORTS," Alan raised his voice, "skirt-shorts. That's what you missed. Nothing worth staying awake for. Might as well just pull whatever kind of magic tricks you've got up your sleeve and let us go, then just climb back down in your little cave...I'm sure next time you wake up, things'll be better."

He sighed, "I'm not going back to sleep for awhile, the two of you woke me up and I'm going to enjoy myself. Things will be easier on you and your brother if you cooperate. I could always turn him as well…" He trailed off. That was something he didn't want to do, what he had seen of the other brother was disappointing to say the least, "So, share with me."

Edgar whimpered behind his gag, turning plaintive eyes on Alan before the other brother gave a quick shake of his head in warning to keep him from flipping his shit. "Mom pants," Alan went on, holding up his hand to tick off the things he could think of, "pop music, um...Ted Dansen...television, Doc Martens. Give me a rough estimate here, when did you pull a Rip Van Winkle, cause I have absolutely no clue what you do and do not know about."

He tipped his head back briefly, "Hmm, what year is it now?"

"1993…"

"It's been thirty years." He said, looking back at Alan.

"Oh…Well, then. Uh...Elvis is dead."

"How disappointing, he was a talented man, there's nothing that can be done about it now however."

Alan nervously fiddled with the bottom of his shirt, unbuttoning and re-buttoning it to keep his hands busy, "the people who lived here...police are going to find out you murdered them…"

"Do you think I'm worried about the police? They're only human, however I'm not one to draw attention. We will be moving on tomorrow. We do need to find dear Samuel."

Alan clenched his fists, prepared to take action, but then his eyes landed on Edgar, and he managed to bite back his anger enough to keep his thoughts to himself. It was clear he had some time to go before he fell into place properly, but that shouldn't be a problem. He'd met far more difficult and intelligent hunters than these young men. "What's your name?" Alan asked him, "what are we supposed to call you?"

"Quinton, however Master works just as well."

"Qu...seriously?" Alan balked, " _Quinton?!_ "

"Is that a problem?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Not as much as harming innocent people, no," Alan replied slowly, edging towards his brother around the side of the room, keeping as much distance between himself and the master vampire as possible.

"Get some rest tonight, we leave tomorrow. You know where your friend is, yes?"

He looked as if he was debating whether or not to say anything, but one quick glance at Ed made his decision for him, as much as Alan apparently struggled with the guilt, "...yyy...yeah…but his brother's a halfie too, and a crazy muscled ape, so good luck getting past him."

* * *

Michael wiped at his hands with a pink rag, tossing it into his toolbox and stalking out of the garage to go see how Sam was holding up in the office, and he wasn't at all surprised when he got that familiar feeling in the back of his mind. They were nearby. Watching. He snorted under his breath as he pulled the door open and slammed it shut behind him. Georgia was at the counter filling out some paperwork, and his little brother was hovering around the water cooler, watching her.

"Georgia, car's done. They can pick it up in the morning, finished earlier than I thought I would," Michael told her, and headed towards the employee bathroom to give his hands a good scrub. Sam watched him leave, and he looked far too intent on that fact for his own good.

Georgia smiled over at Sam and pushed her paperwork aside, "can't believe you decided to stick around here for eight hours! You really that worried Michael won't return your car to you?" That was the excuse they'd given her. He said he just didn't feel like riding his bike. Because 'take your little potentially murderous brother to work so he doesn't chomp down on the neighbors day' was a little ridiculous.

He nodded, "Yeah, it's better than his bike, he's jealous."

She slowly raised her eyebrows, "he's...jealous? Of your Yellow Yugo?" Not being the sort of person to crush a man's dreams and ego, Georgia smiled politely and tossed her ponytail, "of course he is...it's a very nice car. You did a good job with it, Sam."

He beamed at her, "Love that car, try to take good care of her."

"Oh, yes," she nodded, "Michael told me he was secretly jealous of it earlier." She brushed her hand over her shoulder to scratch at her neck.

He swallowed hard, licking his lips slightly, she was so pretty and...his eyes went wide and he looked away, blushing.

"Something wrong?" He could hear the smile in her voice. He used to make excuses to drop by once in awhile just to see that smile. Her lips always painted dark red...as red as her blood probably was. "You're being awfully shy today," Georgia laughed.

"I…" He was hoping Michael was paying attention, he needed his brother. But the water was still running in the bathroom.

"Sam? You alright?" She walked around the side of the counter, flats padding over the carpet as she drew closer, "you're looking pretty pale...do you want something to drink?" She glanced over at the empty water cooler, "could get you some more coffee...I think we've got some strawberry Kool aid left in the employee fridge."

"Kool aid would be awesome, just feeling a little sick again, flu…" He swallowed again. Then she put a hand on his shoulder..and god...it was so warm. He felt something stir, and it wasn't below the belt. Then, the water shut off in the bathroom.

"I'll get you some Kool aid, then," she replied sweetly. He wished she would go faster, his fangs hung heavy in his mouth. Mike could say whatever he wanted, but raccoon was _not_ a strong enough substitute to keep him from going crazy.

Georgia turned on her heels to leave, then paused and turned back to him, scratching at her neck again, "did you want a straw?"

He nodded mutely, "Please." He tried to keep the plaintive mew out of his voice and wasn't sure if he was successful. She turned back and began to walk away. The bathroom door swung open. Mike stepped out and glanced over at him curiously.

"You alright, Sam?" He asked him, closing the bathroom door behind him.

"No, Mike." His voice came out in a hiss around his fangs, "I...I…" He clenched his eyes shut.

"GEORGIA, I'M GOING TO TAKE SAM HOME," Michael called out, "TELL NED I HAD TO LEAVE A COUPLE HOURS EARLY, BUT I'VE GOT EVERYTHING PRETTY MUCH TAKEN CARE OF!" He didn't turn around to make sure he heard, simply stalked forward and threw an arm around Sam's shoulders, hastily guiding him towards the door, "Christ, the shit I have go through for you sometimes, Sam…" When they were rushing across the parking lot, Michael leaned forward to whisper in his little brother's ear, "you think you can make it, or what? How close were you in there?"

He swallowed again, "Really close, she's just…" His hands clenched into fists, trying to ground himself, "Mike, how do you do it?"

"Practice," he replied quietly as he reached the passenger door, "give me your keys."

He scrambled into his pocket, quickly handing them over. Normally he'd never let anyone drive his car but it was an emergency. Michael snatched them away without a word, quickly unlocking the door and nodding for him to climb inside.

"Sam, I'm going to need you to just sit there, stay quiet, and...I don't know...shred a newspaper or something with your teeth if it gets really bad. Just don't get out of the car. I'm going to take care of something real quick. You probably don't want to see it," Michael sighed, tucking the keys into his pocket.

He nodded, settling into the car while his fingers looked for something to grab onto, he wanted to sink his teeth in, god he needed it. His eyes landed on a self-help book for nail biters, and he decided that would have to do.

Michael, meanwhile, slammed the door and stalked away from the car. Sam got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but focused on biting into the book. Thankfully, he didn't hear his brother calling out David's name.

* * *

David wasn't expecting Michael to show up let alone realize they weren't far off and were keeping an eye on his little brother so when he heard his named called he was, he could admit, caught a little off guard. He snuffed out his cigarette, watching as Michael came to them for once. It felt good.

"Michael, what do you need?" He questioned, "Finally decided to come home?"

Michael frowned, tucking his hands into his pockets. Always frowning these days. Never happy. "I need help. With my brother."

"Your halfling brother." He stated, "Tell me what you want and I'll give you an answer."

"Can you fix him?" Michael asked softly, avoiding making even a semblance of eye contact. Clearly, this wasn't easy for him.

"Can help you find his master and kill him, we can do that," he paused, drawing it out, "but there's a catch."

He didn't seem too surprised, nor did he press for more details. Instead, he impatiently pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms, waiting for David to continue talking. Dramatics were, alas, wasted on the brunette.

"You come home." He said, locking eyes with him.

"I've got a lease," Michael told him impatiently, "six months left to go." A fairly empty excuse.

David shrugged, that was the deal, the only deal, "Your loss, not mine."

He gave an irritated snort, "when exactly do you want me to 'come home', and what's the extra catch?" He looked like he was already prepared for an argument. No change there.

"After we take care of Sam's little problem you'll come home with us. Simple."

"That's it? Nothing else?"

He shrugged, "You admit what you are, not saying you have to feed but you're one of us."

The rest of them, who'd been silently watching, exchanged a few smirks and relieved thoughts. If he agreed to this, which he obviously would, it meant they were a lot...a _lot_ closer to finally ending this pointless charade.

"So, do we have a deal?" David held his hand out to shake on it. He watched Michael slowly uncross his arms and reach out to grab his hand. Then he made a move to pull away and end their exchange as quickly as possible. David kept a firm grip on his hand, "Alright, let's go take care of your little brother, I bet he's hungry."

"Starving," Michael replied darkly, finally managing to yank his hand from David's grasp, tenderly rubbing at his palm and glaring at the blonde with no small measure of irritation. "He thinks one of the Frog brothers is the one who tried to turn him…"

David let out a snort, "I doubt it. A newly turned vamp doesn't really have the strength it takes to turn someone."

"Really?" Michael asked, curious despite himself, "I thought it just took a bit of blood…"

"It takes blood of a vampire with strength to actually turn someone. If it was just blood there'd be a lot more vampires around and a lot more wild ones." He leaned back against his bike, "So, whoever turned your brother had strength."

"He's got black eyes," Michael blurted out, glancing back towards the car and then at David again. "...When he eats...and his mouth is packed with fangs. You ever see someone like that?"

The blonde looked thoughtful, "Hmm, not sure, might have, I'll have to think on it a bit. For now though, gotta get Sam some grub." It surprised Michael that they ever even would hunt animals, "I'm _old_ Michael, I've hunted animals before."

"Then why do you eat people?" He asked flatly, though any real semblance of legitimate sympathy for human beings had long since died in him. It was more curiosity than anything at this point.

"Animals are disgusting, I meant I hunted animals when I was _human_. Besides, hot blood will fill little Sammy up better than that cold shit."

Michael took a deep breath and sighed, "I'll go let Sam know I'm going to be a few minutes, then…" The likelihood of getting back to his place in time to get an extra bottle of cold blood for his brother to down didn't seem very good anyway. He also wasn't too sure whether or not Sam would act stupid and try to take a bite out of _him_ instead...not that Michael couldn't knock him out if he had to.


	6. Human Again

He was an early riser. Long before the sun had even begun to set, Quinton was standing beside the blacked-out window giving Alan and Ed directions like they were his trusted minions. Ed, for his part, was immediately under his spell...no thanks to his constant need to challenge anyone with a firm glare and grunt. It was at least the fifth time he'd been put into a trance, and Alan was starting to get a little frustrated with his brother. Especially now that he was crouching on the ground and polishing Quinton's shoes and wearing that patented goofy grin, as if he lived to do nothing else but please and worship the master vampire standing above him.

"We'll be going out to acquire some new attire tonight." He looked down at Ed, "You missed a spot."

Alan gazed at the window, then back at the vampire, knowing full well he probably wouldn't even be able to get one strip of tape off of the frame before something bad happened...possibly even to his brother…"they've got clothes in the closets here…" he mumbled, looking down at his feet and leaning against the wall. He could still see those poor people in his mind, being gutted and hung out to dry...they were just in the other room, so it wasn't as if he didn't have a good reason to remember it as clearly as he did.

"Nothing looked quite right, we'll find something tonight." He said again, closing the issue. Alan hated how he felt compelled to just accept it, like he was just as bad of a boot-licking assmonkey as Ed was right now. But he dropped it.

They had to ride in style. On the dead guy's credit card, no less. Because apparently the master vampire was too good for a station wagon. Never mind the paper trail they'd leave if police caught up to them after all of this was over. Of course that didn't seem to bother Quinton in the least and Alan hadn't bothered to explain it all either. The moment the sun was down, the master vampire was heading for the door, Ed at his heel like a dog.

The small shop that Quinton found for them to go 'shopping' in was soon closed and the people working were quickly drained to sate the vampire's hunger. In the face of all that blood, Alan struggled to maintain his self-control.

"If you ask nicely, you can have the leftovers." Quinton said absently as he started looking through the clothing.

"I don't want them!" Alan lied, covering his eyes and whimpering as he crouched down beside a shelf piled high with ties and trousers, using every single ounce of strength he had to keep from launching himself towards the lifeless bodies only ten feet away, staring up at the ceiling with the final images of Quenton bearing down on them burned into their eyes.

"It wouldn't count as a kill, of course, they are already dead." He pulled a shirt off the rack, looking it over.

Halflings could be so dramatic. Of course if he did take blood from any of them it would be far more difficult for Alan to control himself in the face of a living, breathing person. He tossed the shirt to the side. He had no plans of dressing himself like the brothers, modeling new attire off the shopkeepers and the previous owners of the house was the better choice.

Edgar obligingly held out his arms like proffered tree branches, every inch of available skin covered with a different tie to match any possible choice he could make. "Blue silk would bring out your eyes, master," he grunted.

"Master?!" Alan exclaimed, dropping his hands from his face, "Ed! Get a hold of yourself! That's a vampire you're talking to! He just killed three people! Two more last night! He's a monster, a blood-sucking fiend, a glutton, an unholy shadow-pig!" He was one to talk, with his eyes glazed black and teeth at the ready to tear into the nearest available target.

A look of confusion flitted across Edgar's face, and he shook his head a couple of times, slowly beginning to come out of his daze, before immediately caught in Quinton's gaze once more, and settling down. He raised his arms a little higher so he could get a better look at the ties.

"Alan," he chided, "mind your tongue, or do we need another lesson?" He looked at Edgar meaningfully, "Shadow-pig, really? I'm sure you can come up with something better than that." He plucked the blue tie from his arm, sliding it on, yes, this would do nicely. He adjusted a black blazer so it settled right on his shoulders, "Get me that shirt." He pointed to one on the other side of the store.

Edgar turned around, swiveling mechanically as he marched towards the shirt, while Alan stood far away, not even bothering to lift a finger while he quivered and shook like a recovering addict, tinged with just a little bit of restrained outrage.

"Alan," he turned his gaze to the halfling, "you will behave yourself, yes?"

The young man challenged him merely by remaining silent. He expected an answer when he asked a question and he would have one.

"Alan." He warned, "I expect an answer."

"What's that even mean, huh?" Alan glared over at him, "I'm a hunter. I hunt. I don't know what you want from me."

"You're not a hunter anymore. It's time you stopped acting like one. You'll be making your first kill soon, you need to accept that and move forward."

"If I did, then Sam would stake me. You can bet on that," Alan promised him, drawing his shoulders back.

"Sam will be learning the same lesson when we locate him."

"It should only take about half an hour to drive there, master," Edgar added helpfully as he brought the shirt back to him, "Santa Carla's pretty close."

He chuckled softly, "Thank you, Edgar, for being so helpful." Praise was a wonderful thing, when earned of course, hopefully Alan would be earning his soon. It should only take a few more hours, just in time for them to find the other one, before his cravings got the better of him. He'd be more than biddable, if it meant giving in to them.

The night after Sam got to enjoy the taste of a barn owl squirming in his arms and staining his precious coat with bloody feathers, they paid a visit to grandpa and Lucy.

"Michael! Sam!" Lucy exclaimed as she pulled open the door and placed a delicate hand to her chest, "you should have told me you were coming tonight!" She chided, seeming to have recovered enough from their revelation a few days ago...at least enough not to burst into tears when she locked eyes with her youngest.

"Sam's got something to tell you," Michael firmly nudged his brother through the door. He'd pretty much already quit his job today, and had a pretty long chat with the younger Emerson. Now it was Sam's turn to make good on what they'd agreed to.

"When this is over, I'm going to go back to school, no more hunting." He said softly, looking at the ground.

"Over?" Lucy asked hopefully, putting her hands on Sam's shoulders and meeting his eyes, "you've found a way for you boys to go back to normal?!"

He glanced at Michael, not sure what he should say, if he should tell her that Sam would be but Michael...Well, he'd just signed up for the blood train.

"Don't worry, mom. Everything'll be fine," Michael added, stepping into the house and closing the door behind them, "something smells good. You make enough for a few extra plates?"

Lucy's smile fell for just a moment, but recovered just as quickly, "there's eggplant in the oven. Mashed potatoes...Sam, honey, why don't you help me set the table, and you can tell me all about what you've been doing with yourself...aside from...that…" she smiled weakly as she led her youngest through the house, while Michael remained behind, turning back to the door and peeking through the peephole.

David stood, leaning against a tree, at the edge of the lawn. He gave a little salute when he saw him, he was waiting, watching, they would see anyone that showed up before anyone in the house did. The other boys were back further, prepared to uphold their end of the deal so Michael would come home.

He was, in a way, relieved to get all of this over with. Granted, he actually enjoyed his job, but it wasn't as if he had to work to pay rent to live in a...a cave. Honestly, the more he thought about it, the less Michael even really understood why he'd fought so hard to keep his apartment, to keep his job, to have the 'option' of daytime beach trips, when he rarely ever left the house before two.

Then he saw it...and Michael quickly slipped outside of the house, closing the door behind him so he could get a better look. A red viper sped down the road, tossing up gravel and dirt in the misty smoke it left behind it, before roughly pulling into the driveway, and nearly colliding with one of grandpa's carved totem projects.

The man that stepped out was well dressed but Michael immediately knew that he was other, like Sam. David was striding forward smoothly, making his way to the other vampire. Then, the Frog brothers slowly climbed out on the other side of the car, peering out at the pair with no small measure of fear plastered on their faces. Michael snorted and shook his head, crossing his arms to watch the spectacle unfold in front of him.

David's face was blank as he stopped in front of the other, the boys coming up behind him, "So, you're the one who made a couple halflings and let them loose." He paused, "Welcome to Santa Carla, my territory."

The intruder maintained a stiff expression, "I've come to fetch one of them, so you needn't worry for long. I have little interest in...lingering in such a quaint little town like this one. I detest the smell of fish."

David chuckled softly, "Well, see, that's where we have a little problem. Sam, the one you came to collect, well, he's the little brother of my halfling and, well, I'm sorry to say he doesn't take too kindly to having Sam become like him. I'm afraid that we're going to have to have a little conversation about that. After tonight, we need Sam back to normal…" He trailed off, shrugging, "I'm sure you can see the problem here."

The stranger drew himself up to his full height, smoothing out his tie and idly glancing down at his freshly manicured nails, "yes. It appears we do. I'm really not inclined to give up something once I decide it's mine. Sam and Alan behind me," he indicated the cowering Frog brother, who clearly had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that David and the boys were alive and well, "are mine. They rudely interrupted my sleep, and I fully intend to teach them a lesson for doing so. Tell me, though, do you have anything to offer? I'm willing to negotiate."

"I'm always up for making a deal. We've been awake longer than you have, nice clothes by the way, and I happen to know of a few groups of hunters who would benefit from your unique brand of education." He smirked, "If that doesn't meet your obviously high standards I'm sure we can discuss something else."

That got his attention, "that might be...amusing. And all you want is...Sam, is that it?"

He glanced back at Michael briefly, "Should probably ask for both of them, I don't care much for the little shits behind you but I gotta make the request. Sam though, he's primary. That is if they're willing to leave my city and never come back, what happens after that, well, fair game." Of course he meant that if the other vamp still wanted Alan, he could make a show of letting him go only to pick him up later.

There was a moment of silence, while they sized each other up, before the intruder finally broke the silence, "very well. They're amusing, but hardly worth the effort of fighting for," he snapped his fingers...and Alan dropped to the ground, throwing up torrents of brightly-colored blood into the driveway. Lucy's screams echoing inside the house indicated a similar scene was likely occurring there as well.

"Handy if you don't want a halfling anymore and want to let them go. We don't have that option." It was morbidly fascinating to watch, David couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Edgar," the vampire turned towards the brothers, smiling congenially, "you may want to get him cleaned up. Also, please be sure not to follow me. Next time, I don't think I'll be quite as nice." He glanced back at David, "shall we discuss the details of those hunters you mentioned, then?"

"Yes, I believe we shall, want to go somewhere more comfortable?" There was an all night coffee shop they could settle in to discuss further details, "Or we can just finish up here."

"I'd rather not get blood on my shoes...they were just polished."

Sam had never felt as sick as he did right now. Lucy was panicking as he retched again. Who knew owl tasted as bad coming up as it did going down? He panted for breath, sweat beading on his face, was he dying? Did something go wrong? A groan escaped his lips as he flopped over on his side, hoping the worst of it was over.

"Michael!" Lucy was screaming for him, kneeling down beside her youngest, brushing his hair back from his face, "Michael, where are you?"

"Mom? I think I'm dying." Sam groaned, looking up at her, his stomach gurgled angrily.

"DAD!" Lucy shrieked, "DAD, CALL 911!"

"He'll be fine, mom," Michael rasped as he stepped into the kitchen and stared down at his brother, "I think he's just getting it all out…"

"Michael, please, god...tell me what's happening!" Lucy stared up at her eldest with tears in her eyes, pulling Sam's head into her lap now that he'd finally stopped vomiting. Sam was sure it made for a very 'Hallmark on acid' family picture.

"He's fixed. Sam, you're human again," Michael shrugged, kneeling down to examine his brother's face, "after you take a shower, if you're up for it, you might want to help those two dorks outside into the house. He almost sounded amused by the whole scenario. "Edgar's crying like a baby."

The old man scrambled into the kitchen, and laid eyes on the three together, and then took a deep breath, "somebody wanna tell me what's going on in here?!"

Sam gave him a weak smile, "Someone wanna help me into the shower? I feel like shit."

"Sam, honey, we need to take you to the hospital," Lucy whispered, placing her hands on Sam's cheek, not caring that she'd gotten blood all over her crisp white apron.

"Not gonna do much good," Michael told her dryly as he climbed up and sat down at the kitchen table. She looked over at him incredulously, unable to even begin to find the right words.

"What? What did I do?" He scowled.

"Michael...Emerson…" She stammered, then held Sam even closer as her father stomped out of the kitchen to fetch a mop and a bucket.

"What?!" Now Michael was getting defensive. He didn't see what the big deal was. "He's fine, all they're going to do is charge you a bill and give him a stomach pill or some shit…there's not a treatment plan for a recovering blood-drinker, mom..."

"Sometimes I honestly don't even know how to talk to you anymore," she replied quietly, smoothing her hand through Sam's sweaty locks, "I'll help you get to the bathroom, honey. Do you need me to wash your hair for you?"

Sam nodded before looking at Michael, scowling slightly, "Michael?"

"Yeah?" His brother looked down at him, propping his chin up on his hand as he leaned against the table. "You think you're going to be okay, Sam?" He added belatedly, as if that somehow made up for him being a dick just a few moments ago.

"Yeah, but Michael…" He looked at him pointedly as if to say, what about you?

"I'm gonna go have a smoke and check on your friends outside...see if they can make it to the door," Michael sighed, climbing to his feet and stalking out of the kitchen, just in time for their grandpa to nudge by with his cleaning supplies.

"Once you're all done getting yourself cleaned up, Sam, you're gonna clean this up too…" he grumbled.

"Dad, he almost died!" Lucy snapped, holding her youngest even closer, practically smothering him in the process.

Sam glared at him, "Sorry, at least I'm not half anymore?" He rolled his eyes.

Trauma has a funny way of making grown men act like children, when all's said and done. For Sam and the Frog brothers, once they'd all managed to recover enough from the night to be able to string together cohesive sentences, it was no different. Just past midnight, once Sam had finally convinced Lucy he did not in fact have to sleep in her bed with her just in case, nor did he need a night light, all three of them had settled together on the living room floor, and were quietly flipping through old comics.

Not vampire comics.

"You think they're going to come back and finish us off?" Edgar asked, glancing over his shoulder, having sobered up just enough to remind himself they weren't yet out of the woods yet. There was a whole pack of bloodsuckers out there, and they definitely weren't on their good side…

Sam shook his head, "I don't think so...Michael hasn't come back since going outside to smoke…"

Alan squinted at the comic in his hand, examining a fuzzy speech balloon and trying his best not to think, but...well, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "How does he handle it? For this long?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I almost snapped and he just reined me in and stopped me from doing something stupid. I dunno how he's managed for 8 years."

"We could do him a favor. Pay him back...save him…" Edgar suggested, "it would just take an afternoon and a couple of sta-"

Both Alan and Sam looked at him with an expression of sheer incredulity.

"Or not…" He trailed off, sticking his nose back in the comic he was reading.

Sam looked toward the window, "Mike? Where are you?"

He could go inside now. He could spend the night, put everything off until the next day. As long as the boys didn't show up again to get him, Michael was pretty sure one more night wouldn't hurt. Then he heard the sound of their bikes roaring in the distance, and cursed under his breath as he tossed his last used-up cigarette butt to the ground, grinding it under his shoe.

They were far louder in their approach tonight than usual. Because they didn't give anyone knew they were there. He could actually hear them howling into the night air, and a part of him wanted to join in, but he held himself back. Didn't want to wake mom up, or get Sam running outside to stick his nose in where it didn't belong.

David pulled up, skidding to a stop right in front of him, "Ready, Michael?" He smirked, "Where's your bike?"

He nodded towards Sam's car, "it's in the driveway. You sure this can't wait another night?" He asked, a hint of hope in his voice. This was a major step in a direction he'd been fighting for 8 years now, he felt like just...giving in...would pretty much make all of his hard work and self-denial practically pointless.

He rolled his eyes, "You've had 8 years, let's go home."

Michael looked back at the house, debating whether he'd bother to stick around for a few minutes to say his goodbyes...but it wasn't like he was leaving forever. He'd come back. He'd visit. He hadn't made any kind of agreement to cut off ties with his family. "I don't see why I can't have one more night," he grumbled under his breath as he headed towards his bike.


	7. It's Never Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going crazy with this one. Expect the unexpected, I guess?

David stretched, dropping down from his spot. Michael was already up, was missing from his perch. He scowled, heading into the main room, he couldn't have gone far after all. He stepped into the lobby only to be greeted by the strangest sight he had ever seen. Trash bags piled several feet high in the corner of the lobby, the chandelier in the fountain polished into practically pristine condition...as pristine as rust could get, with fresh candles in every holder, a clean red sheet draped over the couch, and Michael on his hands and knees feverishly scrubbing the side of the fountain with a bandana on his head tying his hair back. Not the idyllic image of rebellion or dark evil the boys tended to project.

"The fuck, man?" Paul asked behind him, nudging David's shoulders while the others filed into the room and surveyed the lobby. They hardly recognized the place. Michael glanced up at them, slowly dropping the scrub brush he was holding as if he'd been caught in the act of robbing a bank.

"I...I got bored…" he explained, climbing to his feet and dusting at the knees of his jeans, which had been soaked through with dirt and mud.

"Holy shit, last time I saw it this clean it was operational." David chuckled, "Just, wow, I kind of like it."

"Do you have any idea how many dead rats were under that bed, man?" Michael wrinkled his nose, "it was like a fucking colony under there…"

"I was collecting those!" Marko exclaimed, rushing towards the bed in question and pulling up the blanket draped over the side to reach under and grasp at the empty space below.

David glared at him, "No more dead rats, I told you that before!"

Marko's head fell to the ground as he pouted, "it was just a few dozen...I never get to keep anything nice…"

Dwayne flopped down on the couch and kicked up his heels, snorting.

"Oh god...am I going to find something worse if I clean another room?" Michael looked around, rubbing his hands together to peel away bits of dirt and cobweb residue.

"Probably but I like this, never really thought to clean." David chuckled softly.

Michael sat down at the edge of the fountain, "I'm not your maid. It's not going to be a regular thing, dude."

"Never said that, meant that it's easier to keep something clean if it is clean." He settled into his chair, "Nice, wheels roll better than before."

"You get bored tomorrow, I could make a grocery list for ya, Mikey," Paul snarked, sitting down beside Dwayne and throwing his head back.

"Speaking of, I'm hungry." Marko whined.

"You're always hungry, besides, it's Michael's night to choose."

"Choose what?" Michael glanced over at him suspiciously, and David didn't need to read his mind to know what he was thinking. It was written on his face.

David smirked, "When we're laying low we take turns deciding what we're going to do for the night. It keeps us from going nuts because it does get boring. Of course what can be done, we can't go enjoy our beach parties after all."

"So how long do you have left? Two years? Twelve? People still remember you guys?" Michael quirked an eyebrow. They hadn't really done much talking in a pretty long time. This was honestly the first opportunity they'd had to really sit down and hang out. They'd been a little too busy the night before to do much besides turn in the second they got back to the hotel.

"We usually take off for at least 10 years at a time, for whatever reason people seem to forget after that."

"Helps if you eat the people who _do_ pay attention to you. Everyone else, the ones who stay to the side or avoid us...they don't stare long enough to really remember our faces, not after ten years. Then you've got people who just don't want to believe we're the same. Enough time passes, it's easy to trick yourself," Dwayne threw in his two cents.

"...I haven't...been to a bar in a while…" Michael trailed off. Honestly, he hadn't had a drink since he'd figured out early on how much easier it was to lose control of himself after knocking back a beer or two. If grandpa hadn't been there that night, he didn't know what would've happened. _One_ drink couldn't hurt though. Not one.

"Sure, let's go to a bar." Marko grinned, looking excited.

David got to his feet, "Next town over though, for safety sake." He headed for the door, "Might wanna take that bandana off, Michael, have to instill a little fear at least." The brunette reached up and patted at his head, hurriedly tearing the bandana away. He'd clearly forgotten he was even wearing it.

They were all excited as they got on their bikes, David letting out a howl as they took off, the others following in kind. They could get out, have a little fun, show Michael what he's been missing. He was already starting to loosen up a little, judging by how enthusiastically he took to riding with them tonight.

It wasn't close. Pretty far, actually, compared to the places they tended to frequent on the outskirts of Santa Carla and just beyond. But that was because they'd scouted this bar out before, found the right place where an incident wouldn't go noticed immediately, and cops wouldn't swarm the place after a phone call. Not that they weren't going to snip a few wires once they were inside anyway, for good measure.

* * *

"There's dives, man...and then there's _dives,_ " Paul whistled once they'd pulled up to the bar. Michael lingered behind them, crossing his arms and nervously tapping his fingers against his elbows.

"I've changed my mind…" he said quietly, leaning against the side of the building. "I don't think I want a beer anymore." He uncrossed his arms and reached under his jacket to grasp at the flask he'd kept tucked safely away, fiddling with the cap as he waited for them to go inside and take care of...what they probably planned to do in there. He should have just picked something far away from people. Like going for a ride and leaving it at that. Or clearing out the rest of his stuff from his apartment. Anything to keep him busy, to keep him from feeding. With that thought in mind, Michael took a swig from his flask and cringed at the taste. It was getting worse and worse.

David opened the door for them, motioning him in, "You'll be fine, I'll even take a little more of your hunger than I usually would, how about that?"

He tucked the flask away, "yeah...I guess that works…"

It was the kind of place that should've been shut down years ago. Not just for health code issues, but because the business couldn't possibly have made enough money to keep going without driving the owner down a hole of climbing debt. The stench of old rot-gut pervaded the air, but there were at least enough patrons there tonight to keep the boys busy. Even a couple of trashy old divorcees with years of poor choices painted on their faces, nursing their shared misery at the rims of lipstick-stained whiskey glasses.

All eyes were on them as they strolled in and settled down in a booth. David sitting in the center with Michael beside him so he could help him keep control. He hadn't lied outside. Michael could actually feel some of that burden easing somewhat. Enough for him to relax a little in his seat when a waitress approached them with a tray and a stack of cocktail napkins.

"Can I get you boys anything?" She asked them, pointedly ignoring the funny grins Marko and Paul were shooting in her direction.

It wasn't until Michael had his beer safely delivered and resting in front of him, that Dwayne picked that opportunity to climb out of his seat and saunter towards the door. A few minutes later, an old trucker tried to nudge past him, only to find himself flat on his back and cursing and crying out while Dwayne delivered a few vicious kicks to his side.

David chuckled, smiling out at them, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our little party. I'm so glad you could join us tonight." He got to his feet slowly, stretching, "We've been a little bored lately and, well, I'm afraid you're going to be tonight's entertainment." He moved forward, approaching the biggest guy in there, "Here, I'll even let you throw the first punch."

"What the hell is wrong with you boys?" The man demanded, grabbing David by the collar and giving him a good shake, "you tell your friend to stop beating the shit out of Roger, and maybe I won't wring your scrawny white neck tonight."

Michael took a swig of his beer and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat as he watched 'the show'. Marko and Paul had scrambled out of their seats in the meantime to join the two women at the bar, looking at the scene with horrified expressions, though one wouldn't know by the sheer scale of their heavily penciled eyebrows.

David grinned at him, chuckling softly, "I'd like to see you try." He wrapped his hands around his wrists, pulling them up to wrap around his own throat, "Come on, let's see you try."

"Listen, just stop this. You leave now, and I won't call the cops," the bartender pleaded, drawing towards the phone just beside the scotch box behind him.

"I got this, Louis," the man gripping David's throat shouted, "stupid little punk, you really want to do this? Alright, dipshit, you brought this on yourself." With that, he began to squeeze, "you over there, you get away from that god damned door!"

He laughed, his grin never fading. He let him squeeze a moment longer before pulling his hands away, keeping a firm grip on his wrists, "Michael, would you kindly stop him from getting to the phone for me." He snapped his head forward, his forehead cracking into his nose, breaking it.

Michael sighed, heading towards the bar, where the man had snatched up the receiver and immediately began to dial. "No hard feelings," he apologized dryly as he reached forward and grabbed the man's collar, yanking on it until he had him pulled halfway over the bar, and the brunette used his free hand to grab the receiver and yank it away, snapping it in half to let the broken pieces fall to the bar top.

Marko and Paul had already pulled their selected targets up close and personal, which set the women to screeching as they tried to break the iron grips on their torsos.

"Don't be like that, baby," Paul whined, nuzzling his victim's neck, letting his tongue dart out to lick at it, only for him to gag, "little less makeup next time, huh?"

Dwayne smirked, grabbing the man from the floor and pulling him to his feet, "Come on, no more lazing around." He pulled the man close, grinning through his fangs, "Man, come on, fight me, make this a little fun."

Roger moaned, trying to push Dwayne away, "you broke my rib!" He cried out, trying to throw a punch with one of his thrashing arms to land right at the side of Dwayne's head, forcing his jaw to snap to the side.

He licked his lips slowly, capturing a drip of blood before punching him in return. Blood splattered across the floor in thick drops, "Now look what you did, wasted perfectly good blood." He shook his head, driving his fangs into his throat and tearing, grinning as blood gushed out of the wound.

David was having his own fun, letting the man get in a few more punches before deciding it was time to feed. Right before he sank his fangs in he met Michael's gaze over the bar. A funny thought struck him, then, watching David tear into his meal.

He didn't care. Really. He'd always thought there'd be a spark left, at least something, faced with the actual act of feeding on people again...but there was no feeling inside except the deep sense of injustice that he couldn't and wouldn't let himself succumb to do the same. For what? Principle? So when he went to visit his mom, he wouldn't be lying about where or who his meals came from? Michael glanced back at the man he was still holding by the collar, who was frozen with shock and fear as the nightmare in the bar unfolded about him.

He'd have to die tonight, anyway. There was no getting around it. The boys wouldn't want to leave any witnesses. This guy was just going to end up with a broken neck anyway, his life pretty much going to waste. Wouldn't it be worse to kill him like that? Then it was just murder, nothing but sport. The frenzied sounds beside him of Marko and Paul indulging in their own meals finally made him decide to take that final step.

Because...why not?

It felt like the way his fangs tore through his gums tonight was far more painful than it had ever been before, perhaps because he hadn't really used them, had tried his best to still keep them safely hidden even when he drank from grandpa's home-mixed batches of critter blood. But...pain aside...it felt pretty incredible, too. Like stretching a weary muscle or limb to finally hear that satisfying ' _pop_ ' ring through the air. Only this was so much more, even better when he pulled the man closer and breathed in the scent of his skin and fear. Once his fangs were buried in flesh and muscle, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't _believe_ it tasted this good!

Any small worries tucked in the back of his mind, any fears, any thoughts about principle or reason, finally faded away. So too, he realized, did much of his hunger, with each satisfying gulp of hot, living blood. Michael finally gave in. He finally finished dying. Yet, for the first time in eight years, he _lived_.

* * *

David licked his lips as he pulled back, watching Michael feed, watching him dig his fangs in deep and drink for the first time. The others pulled back from their meals to watch the event with reverence. This was something that needed to be witnessed and praised. David moved forward to stand beside him, his fingers reaching out to slide down his back.

"Tastes good, yeah Michael?" He purred, "Looks like you're sorry you waited so long, eight years is a long time to go without it, isn't it?" Michael groaned in response, holding his meal even closer, wringing out every last available drop.

David chuckled again softly, "I think he's all tapped out, what do you think boys?"

"He's a mummy, dude," Marko snickered, having already let the woman he had been dining on fall to the ground in a heap.

Michael very reluctantly pulled back from the remains of the bartender and pushed the corpse away, throwing his head back and closing his eyes to bask in the feel of what could only be the best meal he'd probably ever had, judging by the look on his face. David took that moment to lick up a stray trail of blood that had slipped down his throat, growling softly in pleasure. Blood tasted even better off his skin. Yes, eight years of waiting had been _far_ too long.

Paul took that moment to scramble over the bartop and collapse on the other side in a graceless heap, "drinks on the house!" He crowed, climbing to his feet and snatching up bottles of liquor, sliding them onto the bar-top for the others to grab at, saving a handle of vodka for himself to swig like a jug player.

Cracking an eye open, Michael looked at David, an expression of surprise crossing his features, "it's...wow…" he shook his head, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, "nothing hurts anymore."

He grinned, "Nothing ever will. You'll get to enjoy life to the fullest. Nothing but pleasure in your future, Michael."

The brunette snorted, "the way you're lookin at me right now, I'd think you were gonna eat me or something."

He smirked darkly, "Mmm, would love to, maybe even more than that." He pressed closer to him, "I can think of all kinds of things I'd love to do with you."

Michael quirked an eyebrow, grabbing one of the proffered bottles on the bartop, and slowly unscrewed it. "I'll..have to think about that one." He took a long draught, pulling back, "so am I gonna get drunk on just as much as I would've before, or is it different now?"

"Take some bottles home, and test it," Dwayne snarked, busily wiping off his hands with a cocktail napkin.

David chuckled, "Sounds like a plan. Take as much as you can carry, boys."

"Who's on cleanup duty tonight?" Marko surveyed the bar, sliding off of his stool and lazily stretching his arms above his head.

Michael shook his head, "I already took care of the lobby. Not me."

"Sounds like you volunteered, Marko." Dwayne leaned against the wall beside the door.

Marko's grin fell, "that's bullshit!"

* * *

Lucy settled in her bed, tucking a pillow gently behind her back, as she glanced down at the magazine splayed over her lap. Sam should be back soon. He and his friends had spent the day together, then he'd given them a ride back to somewhere on the outskirts of Luna Bay. Apparently they'd had to leave their car by a ditch somewhere, for reasons she didn't care to know. As far as Lucy was concerned, the less she knew about the circumstances that led to the terrible mess they'd gone through in the past few days, the better. She had far worse things on her mind right now, and knowing that Sam was...normal again...at least did something to take a load off her mind.

She examined the article in question, almost laughing at the headline: 'Coping with Loss and Grief'. That was something Lucy was sure she'd been struggling with for eight long years. She _had_ lost Michael, in a sense. It was like one of those daytime television soaps she'd watch on her days off, he got into an 'accident', she'd tell people...and sometimes even herself...and he was never the same. She'd always love him, but there was a limit to what she could handle. Even dad liked to tell her every once in awhile that she'd have to let go, if the unthinkable happened. If he decided fighting his sickness wasn't important anymore, and neither was his family.

Thank god Sam didn't have to do that, too. Thank god for him it had only lasted a few days.

A gentle knock startled her from her thoughts, and Lucy closed the magazine before setting it aside on her bedside table, "come in."

"Mom? Hey, are you...are you alright?" He stepped inside. A grown man, twenty-one, and almost capable of making his own choices. But to her, he still looked like the awkward little boy stumbling out of bed in the morning to weasel his way under the covers and ruin his father's sleep seeking comfort from a bad nightmare.

"Of course I am, honey. Are you?" Lucy leaned over and patted the empty side of the bed.

He wormed his way in beside her, "I think so."

"Did your friends get home okay?"

He leaned his head on her shoulder, "Yeah, I got them back to their car."

She hummed, running a hand through his hair, "I'm glad you're okay. Please don't do anything crazy like that ever again, okay?"

He nodded, "Mike made me promise, I'm gonna go back to school, no more hunting."

"You have no idea how happy that makes me, sweety," she sighed. "Is there anything else? You seem like you've got something on your mind."

"I'm just...worried." He sighed, "I'm worried about Mike and I'm worried about whatever he did to fix me."

"You never did explain that to me. How would Michael do anything to fix you if he can't fix himself?" She looked down at him, confident that there was at least half of a missing puzzle here. The boys always seemed to think she was oblivious, with all of the things they tended to keep to themselves. She supposed she hadn't made it any easier on them, as easily as she seemed to get worked up these days.

He looked away, taking another deep breath, "The guy he pinned to the antlers, that we all thought was dead, he's not."

"Wh...what?" She blinked, "I don't understand. That boy...is he the reason Michael is the...is like that?"

He nodded, "Yeah…" He paused, "Ed told me that that blonde asshole made some kind of deal with the other vamp, I don't know why he would even do that for me unless Mike did something."

"Language, Sam," she chided. "Maybe you should go talk to Michael tomorrow, if you're this worried about him."

He nodded, "Maybe I will." He snuggled in against her like he was a little kid again, "Tomorrow."

They weren't out of the woods yet, Lucy thought privately, but she'd be happier to have Sam worry about Michael now, than worry about her later. She still hadn't told him. She'd wait until the Spring. There was plenty of time.

* * *

The first few hours of drinking was fairly relaxed. It was right about 3 in the morning, when Paul decided it would be a brilliant idea to dive-bomb Dwayne while he wasn't looking. Dwayne snarled, tackling him to the ground and reversing their positions, pinning the other vampire under his weight. Then Marko dog-piled them both.

Michael watched the scene, half-asleep and dazed as he reclined on the couch. He hadn't touched liquor since...well, he couldn't remember when. Right now he just wanted to relax, though. He didn't even care that he had his head propped up in David's lap right now. David's fingers slid through his hair absently as he tipped his bottle back and took a drink. The blonde was totally relaxed, looked completely at peace, comfortable with Michael's position over his lap.

"Mmm, you know Dwayne's gonna kick your ass again, right?" David asked, tipping his head to the side, continuing to card his fingers through Michael's hair. The brunette relaxed even further, having had enough tequila to poison a small elephant by now. If they were human, they'd have all passed out or died long before they got to this point.

"Don't care," Marko declared, "I'm king of the hill!" He cheerfully crawled onto Dwayne's back and stood up, stomping his feet as he did so.

Dwayne grabbed his leg and pulled, "You little bitch." He growled, alcohol seemed to shorten Dwayne's fuse by a lot.

Marko yelped, falling onto his face with a grunt, "You're the little bitch!"

David chuckled, "Shouldn't have done that."

Paul scrambled away as Dwayne focused his attentions anew on Marko, who was hissing and slapping his face like mad. He slammed into the couch, knocking into Michael and David, wringing an angry growl from the blonde.

Michael jerked up, giving Paul a good shove in the back with one of his feet, just as Marko was crawling away from Dwayne, the taller vampire's fangs dug firmly into one of his ankles. David growled, landing a punch firmly across Marko's face.

"I was comfortable, why'd you have to go play king of the mountain?" He landed another, sending Marko sprawling and tearing the wound in his ankle wider.

Marko pouted, eyes narrowing, "Paul started it." He grumbled.

Paul managed to stand up, stumbling forward and slumping over a very flustered Dwayne, "I win," he groaned, rubbing at his back where Michael had kicked him. Dwayne licked at the blood dripping over his chin, contemplating whether or not to beat the shit out of Paul, but deciding instead to reach for a half-empty bottle of whiskey laying on its side, defeated in battle much like the rest of its comrades.

Michael yawned, settling back down on David's lap and squinting, "you guys are dipshits."

David immediately went back to petting through his hair, grumbling, "They're assholes."

* * *

Alan let out a sigh of relief, coming back to Ed's trailer was not his first choice but after what he had gone through it was a good feeling. Maybe it would be a better idea to just quit hunting, he'd live longer and honestly he did not want a repeat of that performance. If being half was bad what would happen if he really lost it or was forced to feed or just straight up died. He didn't want to die, not really. He also didn't want to ever see his brother acting like _that_ again. Ed was a jerk most of the time, maybe even a melodramatic hypochondriac, but Alan much preferred that to an evil vampire's loyal butt-monkey.

"Ed, I think I'm done." He said, stepping inside, "And I think you should be too."

Ed grunted, though whether that was a 'yes' or 'no' was debateable. Probably a no. He was hard-headed enough to generally only agree with things if he'd experienced them first-hand. Since the worst thing he'd dealt with so far was a near constant state of hypnotic bliss, he'd hardly experienced anything at all.

"Got some take-out in the fridge," Edgar told him with a thin-lipped smile, "you just relax in the kitchen nook, and I'll take care of everything, Alan," he rushed into the kitchen, yanking open a drawer as he fiddled with silverware and dishes. Obviously he was overjoyed to have Alan home, judging by the lack of plastic packaging being ripped open. Metal forks were for special occasions.

Alan sighed and shook his head, sliding into the chair at the cramped kitchen table and freezing, eyes going wide, breath coming in a sharp gasp when he noticed who was sitting in the living area, "Ed…" He swallowed hard, "ED!"

Quenton was seated in the only clean chair, one leg crossed over the other, "Oh, do keep it down, no need to cause such a fuss."

The clinking of metal suddenly stopped, as Ed pulled away from the counter with a fearful squeak, arching his head into the space between the sink and cabinets to catch a glimpse of the kitchen table, "...Al...Al...Alan?!"

The vampire got to his feet, "I thought we could have a nice little chat."

"You let us go!" Edgar shouted, yanking the drawer out of its compartment and scrambling around into the dining nook, "you said it…" he looked Alan, "didn't he say it? He let us go," he looked back at Quenton, "you let us go," then back at Alan, "HE LET US GO!" He was jibbering now.

"It suited my purposes at the time, besides, David doesn't care about what happens to the pair of you. In reality the deal was for Sam after all." He chuckled softly, "You entertain me, there are so few in the world that can claim that." He sat down across from Alan, glancing back at Edgar, "Do try not to cause a ruckus, Alan and I need to have a little heart to heart."

"How about stake to heart?" Alan suggested, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. He wasn't his 'fledgling' anymore, not his 'creature'. He was human now. A hunter again. The only thing the vampire would get from him was a noble self-sacrifice, and maybe even a scathing speech. "Get out of our house...mobile home...trailer...get out of it!"

Ed drew his shoulders back, wielding a very threatening pastry fork as he stood beside his brother to defend him. The vampire sighed, meeting his gaze, "Do sit down and behave yourself. I'm not going to leave, in fact, your future is looking very bright indeed."

Without another word, Edgar whimpered and flopped down to his knees, admiring and idolizing the vampire with just a word. The silverware drawer and pastry fork spilled from his clutches out onto the floor, sparkling under the dim lighting in the trailer. Alan groaned, leaping out of his chair to snatch up the pastry fork with one hand, keeping his eyes averted from the vampire's gaze at the same time, "we've got nothing to talk about, bloodsucker! Shadow-pig!" He could say what he wanted, but Alan actually liked the term. It suited Quinton the vampire perfectly.

He sighed, getting to his feet again, "I suppose we have to do this the hard way, don't we?" He lashed out, grabbing Alan by the throat and slamming him to the floor. Edgar was already under control, now it was time to show Alan his proper place. Alan choked, kicking up his legs and flailing his arms as he blindly tried to fling the pastry fork out, throwing it uselessly at the vampire's shoulder. He groaned when it fell down right beside his head, narrowly missing clipping him in the eye.

 _These_ were hunters? The sorts of men placed on this earth to eradicate his race? What a joke. He used his knees to pin the young man's arms down, keeping him firmly on the ground. He had spirit, he'd give him that, "Perhaps we shall do more tonight than just talk. I like you, Alan, so I'm going to give you a gift."

"Had it. Hated it. Don't want it." Alan turned his head to the side, foolishly submitting his neck in the process.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he trailed his fingers down his throat, "I was thinking about having Edgar be your first kill." He paused, watching him, waiting for a reaction. When it happened, it was violent. As violent as it could be, at any rate. Alan cussed beneath his grip, kicking his legs and flailing his arms, doing his best to throw the vampire off. No, killing Edgar would perhaps be a little too much. If he forced that on the man, it wasn't unlikely Quinton would find himself awakening in a century or two with a stake in his chest, once his guard was sufficiently dropped.

"The only kill I'm gonna make tonight is you!" Alan snapped back, still keeping his head turned to the side, refusing to cease his pointless struggling.

"No, your brother won't be your first kill, you need not worry about that. In fact, I won't separate the two of you either." He brought his wrist up to his mouth, sinking his fangs into his wrist, "But, you are mine and will be forever." He forced the wound to his lips, "So, drink."


	8. Out of Town

Sam smiled, felt good about the day as he headed into Michael's work, he had to be there by now. There was a chance he could save his brother, they could work this out, and mom could smile again. She didn't look very happy but she was obviously relieved that Sam was back to normal at least. Plus, giving up hunting...that was a plus.

He stepped inside, his smile wide, "Good afternoon, Georgia. Is Michael here?"

"Michael?" Georgia jerked up from her paperwork at the counter, "honey, didn't he tell you? Michael quit last night. Called in, left a message, told us he was leaving town for good."

"What?" He froze, blinking, "I just saw him last night, he didn't say anything. How could he have quit? Why?" He had to find him, that meant he was still at his apartment, right? He looked over at her, "Umm, thanks, I'll see you later, I gotta go." He turned and ran out, his smile long gone.

Michael wasn't at his apartment. Neither was his bike. No answer at the door and no key under the carpet. But when Sam craned around to try and catch a glimpse through the open patio window, he could tell there were still things inside. So...Michael hadn't left for good. What the hell did all of this mean?! What was he going to do? How was he going to find him? He looked out toward the boardwalk and the beach, maybe...no, no, Michael would never do that, he'd never go _there_. He jumped back in his car and headed for the only place he could possibly be, that fucking sunken hotel.

He stood at the top of the cliff looking down the stairs. He didn't want to go down there but he had to talk to his brother and he couldn't think of anywhere else his brother might be. Slowly, he walked down, taking the stairs carefully.

Garlic didn't work. That's what he remembered Alan and Ed telling him...after... _that..._ night. Still, there was a comfort in his garlic necklace, his rosary, his crucifix. The many accoutrements of a 'seasoned' hunter from any good Hammer or Universal flick. Sam spent the rest of the afternoon, and even a good portion of the early evening waiting, perched at those steps. Knowing with each passing minute and hour...his brother was more and more likely to be there.

"Mike?" His voice came out softer than he would have liked. He cleared his throat before trying again, "Mike!" He took another step inside, taking a slow breath, "MIKE!" He shouted again.

Pigeons fluttered down from the ceiling, descending in their manic path beside him, almost making him fall to the ground once he'd finally built up the nerve to actually go inside. There was one thing that made him feel a _little_ less terrified. It was very clean, now. He didn't remember the place being too nice, the one time he'd been here.

The sun had begun to descend. A melting lemon candy in a hazy pink sky. He glanced back at it; he didn't want to be here when the sun was gone but what other choice did he have?

"Mike? Come on man, I need to talk to you!"

"He's not up yet." David. The albino bastard was leaning against the wall looking at him, "What do you want?"

He swallowed hard, steeling himself, "I need to talk to my brother."

"Hate to break it to you, kid, but he'll probably be another thirty minutes, maybe more. Hangover. First kill. Not a great combo," the asshole's upper lip curved into a sinister smile.

A chill ran down Sam's spine. _First kill?!_

"...Mike...Mike wouldn't kill anyone…" Sam stammered, slowly raising his crucifix as he stumbled back against the cave wall, gazing towards the monster that had started this whole mess. The bastard who'd torn his family apart.

"Totally his choice too, wasn't even _that_ hungry." He chuckled softly, "Was quite the surprise, totally didn't expect it yet." He looked him over, "Glad to see you're doin' good, makes that deal worth it."

"What…" Sam gulped, refusing to close his eyes, as desperately as he wanted to. He could feel them burning right now, but taking his gaze away from David would just be begging for trouble, "what deal?"

"I help you, Michael comes home, pretty simple."

"His home is with mom. With grandpa. With _us,"_ Sam whispered, his heart hammering in his chest, his hopeless wails echoing in his mind. He didn't need to hear whatever was coming next. He _knew...he knew_ what Mike had done.

David smirked, "Not since eight years ago. Not since he drank my blood. So, home is here, pretty simple, isn't it little Sammy? He's not one of _you_ anymore. He's one of _us_."

"You didn't even give him a choice!" Sam shouted, thrusting the crucifix out even further, "he told me what you did to him! Made him eat some shitty food, tricked him, then gave him a bottle he thought was just cheap wine...how's that fair, huh?" He knew he was making things worse for himself right now, challenging a _vampire,_ trying to make empty threats...but if no one else was there for Mike, he was. Sam would never let his brother go. Never.

David shook his head, "He spent eight years playing human, fighting it, I merely made sure he knew there was another way."

The sound of rustling fabric alerted him first; the others were waking up. It wasn't just the monsters he'd thought dead and buried eight years ago. It was more than that. His brother would be one of them. "Why couldn't you just let him go, huh?" Sam whimpered, pulling the crucifix in close to his chest as a protective talisman, no longer a weapon, "he didn't want this!"

They came, then, arriving swiftly on a stream of air, the ones he'd thought him and the Frogs had taken care of at the head, and then finally, his own brother. Mike. Landing beside David, as if he _belonged_ there. With them. With him.

"Good morning, Michael, how're you feeling?" David asked; he at least sounded concerned for his brother. That was...something.

"Hangover," Michael replied curtly, before turning towards Sam, and almost taking a step back in surprise. "Sam? What the..." He turned towards David, "did you drag him in here?!"

"He showed up yelling your name over and over again, woke me up." David rolled his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me you quit your job, jerk?!"

Michael squinted, rubbing the back of his neck with an exasperated sigh, "well...I guess I knew you'd do something stupid if I told you. I quit my job, Sam," he informed him bluntly. "I'm also ditching my lease, too…" There was a distinct disinterest, a lack of real emotion in his response. He was acting funny. Come to think of it, he was standing pretty close to that asshole, too.

Sam scowled, "Mike, what's wrong with you? Why're you acting like that?"

He rolled his eyes in response, "don't worry about it. Just go home. Tell mom I'll swing by in a couple of days. How are you coming on those entrance essays, huh?" Michael tried to change the subject, "not much time left to apply for spring semester…"

When the others shouldered in behind him, it almost made Sam want to scream. This wasn't normal. It wasn't _right._ These were the same guys he remembered killing years ago to save his brother, and they were acting like some kind of weird shit-sucking family right now!

David smirked at him, "Need help with a little history lesson? We can tell you how it really happened."

Michael nudged him, "stop." He stepped forward, "don't worry about it, Sammy. I'm just...I moved, okay?" He quirked his eyebrows, "you're safe. I'm safe. Everything's fine, so just drop it."

David looked affronted, "I was serious. Help write a proper essay."

Sam swallowed hard, "You killed someone, Mike." He whispered, eyes wide.

Michael frowned, "well...yeah...but it's not like you knew him, or anything." He said it as if he'd knocked over someone's mailbox, or ripped the sticker off of grandpa's tv guide! There wasn't even a hint of guilt on his brother's face.

Sam couldn't be here, he had to get out of here. He took a step back, not taking his eyes off them before he was able to turn and run. His brother was a cold blooded killer, he didn't _care_ about humans anymore, the only thing that seemed to matter were the others he was standing with. Never mind the fact that he hadn't attacked Sam yet, he probably just wasn't hungry enough! Sam remembered what that felt like, too, and a part of him _had_ wanted to take a bite out of mom or grandpa when they weren't looking. He didn't doubt Mike felt the same way for good, now.

* * *

Michael watched his little brother flee, perplexed. A little hurt. "...Didn't think he'd run that fast…"

"He's a quick little bugger, would be a fun chase." Marko said wistfully as they watched him flee.

"I'm not eating him," Michael paused, "you're not eating him either, asshole," he growled, glaring at Marko. Whether Sam was bursting into hysterics or not, he had no plans to put his little brother on a dinner plate anytime soon. Even if he deserved it.

Marko put his hands up, "Easy, won't eat him...unless he tries to stab me again, alright?"

"Thought it was the smelly one who stabbed you," Paul yawned, stretching his arms above his head and relaxing as his spine began popping into alignment.

"They all smell," Dwayne sneered.

"Doesn't matter, anyone that tries to stab me, I eat." Marko stated.

David shook his head, "So, Dwayne, your turn tonight, what do you want to do?"

Dwayne looked thoughtful, glancing up at the ceiling, "let's go for a ride."

* * *

Sam couldn't stop running his fingers through his hair, tugging at it nervously as he headed for Edgar's trailer. He couldn't believe he was about to ask the Frog brothers to help him...do something to his brother. Stake him? Restrain him? Keep him from hurting people? Sam still wasn't sure. Staking wasn't really on the table though. Not yet…

All of the lights were off. What's more, both Ed and Alan's cars were there. They should be inside. He pushed the door open without knocking. Apparently today was the day for surprises. The dining nook was a mess...silverware all over the floor. Blood spatters. An overturned chair. It was a crime scene. The kind that'd make Columbo quiver with fear.

"Fuck." He bowed his head for a moment before beginning to hunt for some sign of what had happened. Blood spattered trails led towards the door...they couldn't have been here long. The furniture was fine. The television. Everything else besides the blood and the silverware remained untouched. But...just beside the door, Sam spotted a crumpled piece of paper. It could be garbage, given Ed's habits of...well, being a pig...but he couldn't leave it to chance. Kneeling down, he snatched it up and unrolled the ball of paper, grinning when he realized he was right, and then frowning once he'd read the contents:

_Sam,_

_Shit. This is bad. Don't follow. Too late. Stay away. Vampire back, not much time. I'm dead now._

_A_

The letter was scrawled haphazardly with a broken pen, splotches of blue ink blurring half of the words, but there was enough there for him to make it out. A broken cry escaped his lips. It wasn't fair! Why couldn't life just go back to normal? Why couldn't he have stopped hunting sooner? Stopped everything from happening. He might not have been able to save Michael, but he would have _something_ at least.

There was nothing else for it. He'd have to give mom some kind of excuse. Maybe tell her he was scouting campuses or something. No way in hell was Sam losing _another_ person he cared about. He'd have to gather a few supplies first, but if he didn't go as soon as possible, he knew he wouldn't be able to find Ed and Alan.

"Don't worry guys, I'm coming for you," Sam whispered, tearing out of the trailer as fast as his legs would carry him. Screw the promise he'd made Mike, Sam was a hunter. Through and through. Besides, he was pretty sure he'd gotten his brother to promise not to kill people multiple times throughout the years, so as far as he was concerned, this was just one broken deal against a thousand others.

* * *

"Hey mom," Michael called out, gently closing the door behind him as he stepped into the house. David had come with him tonight, tagged along as if he thought he was going to change his mind about staying with them, maybe bolt at any second. He couldn't blame him, but the chances were fairly low now that daylight was pretty much a null and void option anymore. "Mom, where's Sam? I want to talk to him." He called out again, then realized he couldn't pick up her scent. She'd left...but the old man was clattering about in his workshop. "Gramps?" He shouted, "you in there?"

"Michael?" He scowled, eyeing him as he came toward his shop, "I got some bambi in the fridge for you."

He wrinkled his nose, "nah, I'm good." The blood had tasted bad before, but now...he had a feeling he'd just throw it right back up if he even tried one of the old man's special batches.

His eyes narrowed, "You have to be hungry and I know you're about out." It seemed the old man might be on to him. Well, he'd tried.

"Not gonna drink it anymore grandpa," Michael shrugged. "Can't."

"You killed." He stated, "You gonna kill me too?"

It was tempting to joke about it, give the old man a scare, but Michael seriously doubted he'd end up in one piece after the fact if he was alive at all. Grandpa was a tough old bastard, family or not. "No," he replied flatly. "I mean no, I'm not gonna kill you. Definitely killed, though. Gonna do it again, too...kinda have to now...but not gonna kill you." Maybe it was a good thing mom wasn't around to hear this. That'd pretty much be the nail in her coffin. "You seen Sam?" He changed the subject.

"Not since yesterday, think he was gonna pay his friends a visit." He paused briefly, "Don't go tellin' Lucy about your all liquid diet. She has enough trouble right now and I'm sure you know about what."

He scowled, "I'm not a mon...Okay, I I am...but I'm not ev...I'm not gonna," he snapped back, turning on his heels and stomping towards the door...but something made Michael stop right when he was about to turn the handle. "Hey...grandpa?"

"Yeah?"

"...You gonna kill _me_?"

He shook his head, "Long as you don't try to kill me, Lucy, or Sam we won't have a problem." He paused, "Michael, Lucy...I don't know how much longer she's gonna have and Sam doesn't know. Find him and bring him back before he does something stupid."

Michael turned his head to glance back towards the workshop, "what do you mean? How long has he been gone?"

"I got a feeling, always follow my gut."

He coudn't help the snarl that escaped his lips before he dodged out of the house and started to stalk towards his bike. If Sam had done, or was doing something stupid...he'd be hard-pressed not to wring his fucking neck. "God damn it, Sam…" He grumbled, avoiding David's gaze when he kicked his bike into gear.

David cocked his head to the side, mounting up, "What's the problem?"

Michael didn't trust himself not to lose his temper then and there, so he remained silent as they pulled out of the driveway and started heading down the road, Michael leading the way. He'd had to give Sam a ride a couple of times to that piece of trash little trailer. He knew the way by heart. David was a silent shadow, he didn't ask anything else, didn't question where he was going or what he was doing, just followed.

It certainly wasn't a fun ride by any means. Each passing mile and minute on the road riled Michael up more and more, while he let his mind dwell on the possibilities right now. Why would Sam visit them so soon after what just happened? Especially with the conversation they'd had last night…

By the time they got there, and he noticed Sam's car missing from the driveway, while the Frog brothers' crap heaps remained untouched, Michael was so angry, he nearly punched a dent in one of the hoods to relieve some of his frustration. There was a lingering scent in the air, of the fucking vampire they'd sent packing, of the Frog brothers and their corn chip aura, and Sam...

David tipped his head back and took a deep breath, "Well, shit."

"I'm gonna kill them," Michael growled by the time he'd managed to get into the trailer to begin a bit of exploring. Maybe there'd be a hint of where they'd gone, a note, _something._ Not that it made much sense for them to leave one, given how ticked off Sam was before he stormed out of the hotel.

David stepped inside, spotting a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor, "Well, looks like Alan told him not to come after him." He offered Michael the note, "Your brother's an idiot."

Michael glared down at the letter, and then back up at David, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to steady himself. He was this close to blowing a fuse right now. Could vampires have an aneurism, he wondered? He made a move to step by the older vampire, immediately knowing what he had to do. "I'm going after them. I'll be back."

"Not without me you're not." He stated, grabbing his arm, "You're not going to do anything stupid."

He glared at David's hand, taking a deep breath and meeting his sire head-on with a snarl, "let go of me. You're one of the reasons he got so fucking worked up in the first place. If I hadn't gone back to the hotel, I wouldn't have made a kill. Sam wouldn't have broken his promise." He knew how he sounded right now, and he wasn't really angry at _David,_ but right now...the blonde was the only one around he could take out some of his anger on. Warranted or not. When David didn't release him, Michael shoved his arm away and kicked the door open.

David snarled, tackling him to the ground, "That's not how this works, Michael." He growled in his ear, pressing him down to the ground, "I'm willing to let you get away with a lot, but back talking, going against me, I won't stand for it."

Michael growled, shifting beneath him and violently pulling an elbow back to smack David in the face, "get the fuck off of me!"

Teeth, sharp and deadly, sank into the back of his neck, the impact to the side of the head tearing the wounds wider. Strong arms contracted around his torso, squeezing him while David growled into his skin. He gave a sharp intake of breath, cursing as he gave a few more quick jerks, despite the pain. Then, with a deep sigh, Michael stilled. He'd wait until David let him go, then he'd make a run for it. Sam was going to get himself killed! Didn't he understand that?

A deep lethargy settled over him, and he relaxed a little bit more. Part of him was telling Michael to calm down and listen to his maker, but he was just a little too angry to do that right now. David slowly released his neck, lapping at the wounds as soon as he had relaxed.

"You gonna listen to reason?" He asked softly, licking the wounds again.

"...Yeah…" He agreed reluctantly, still fully intent on going after Sam on his own if he had to. "You can get off me now," Michael grumbled. Admittedly, though, the licking did feel nice. Soothing.

David shook his head, "I don't think I can. You're going to take off the minute I get off your back. So no, until you can behave yourself. If you're going to do this, I'm going with you. We clear?"

"Fine!" He snapped, "whatever. Just get the fuck off already!"

David snarled at him, "Are we clear?" He snapped, "Because it doesn't sound like we really are."

He let his head fall against the ground, relenting, "okay." There was just no arguing with the bastard. "Stop reading my mind, you dick."

Slowly David let him up, sliding off his back, "Now, we can go after them but I am going with you."

Michael pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing at his neck and glaring daggers at David, "I can do it myself. I don't need any help," he growled.

"You're not doing this by yourself, you're not going to go talk to an ancient vampire on your own. You're gonna get yourself killed and I will _not_ allow it."

"I'm not planning on talking to him. I'm just gonna beat the shit out of Sam and drag him home. I don't think I need your help doing it," he replied curtly, climbing to his feet and dusting the dirt from his jeans.

"If Sam is already in there going after him, then you'll need help. I won't interfere with you beating the shit out of Sam, I'll only step in if necessary, deal?"

Okay, so _maybe_ he had a point. "Deal." There really was no arguing with him. Michael gave a sardonic half-smile, fishing his keys out of his pocket. "What about the others?"

"They'll be fine at home, we shouldn't need them to talk some sense into the little shit."

"...He _is_ my brother, David. Wanna cool it on the insults?"

"I'll think about it."

Michael snorted, "let's try to make this quick. If we don't hurry up and get Sam home, mom's probably going to have a heart attack. She might even try to invite Star over again to talk to us," Michael sighed. Lucy was still trying to fix _that_ bridge.

"Let's go then." He slid onto his bike, "I might have an idea of where they are."

* * *

"Do you read? Do you even listen? Seriously, Sam. The hell, man?" Alan demanded, sighing as he knelt beside the chair and tightened Sam's bindings. "I don't even want to do this right now, but it's either this or he's gonna eat you…you are so lucky he went _out_ for dinner tonight…"

"Come on man, let me go."

"Look, I'm glad you followed me, because it means you care. Really. Hell, I don't even know how you managed to find us this fast...find _me_...Just trust me on this, Sam, I've learned a lot in the last day or two. You can't fight him. Me fighting him definitely isn't an option anymore. He's even going to let Ed live for awhile. So when housekeeping comes in here tomorrow morning and unties you...or steals your wallet...just get in your car, drive home, and forget about us. Deal?" He was talking fast, acting really funny. Sam could almost swear he was actually enjoying this. What the hell had happened to him?! Alan was a completely different person.

He bowed his head, "Alan, man, I'm sorry I couldn't save you." He paused, "Do you...Do you _like_ it?"

Alan paused, drawing away from Sam after giving one more good yank to make sure the ropes were secure, "well, I've only been dead for like...a day. But you were almost there. What were you thinking, when you got really hungry? What was going through your head?"

"I thought I was gonna die, that all I wanted was to feed…"

Alan grinned, "yeah...and how did you think it would feel?"

He looked away, "That it would taste so good, that it would make the pain stop." He looked back at Alan.

"...And? It's okay, Sam, you can tell me. I think you need to say it." The way he was talking right now, you'd think he was goading Sam into spoiling the end of a good movie. It was creepy.

"I didn't want to kill anyone, Alan."

He scoffed, "you are so full of shit. Yeah, okay, you didn't want to kill anyone, but you did at the same time. Am I completely off base here? You wanted to tear into _someone's_ throat. You wanted to kill. You wanted to enjoy it, drag it out, soak in every single moment until it felt so good it almost hurt."

"I...yeah." He clenched his eyes shut, "Yeah, I did."

Alan stopped smiling, kneeling down in front of him and meeting Sam's gaze head-on, "if you follow us again, either he's going to eat you, he's going to make me eat you, or he's going to turn you again. We're not in Santa Carla anymore. Your brother can't protect you. I don't even have the...I don't even have the ability to fight my sire. It's not in me anymore. Not after he made me feed last night...seriously, like half an hour after he forced his blood down my throat again. You _know_ what the hunger is like, Sam. Better than most humans ever will. Let me go." He paused, "let Michael go, too. Or accept what he is."

"Michael fed." He swallowed hard again, "He killed."

He smirked, "yesterday I probably would've told you to stake him, then. But…" he trailed off, shrugging, "it's not that bad. Feels good. Hey, he lasted eight years, that's pretty long."

"He fed because of me, it's my fault, it's my fault you got turned, it's my fault he fed."

"How do you figure that?" Alan cocked his head, "you didn't hold us down and force-feed us. Stop beating yourself up. You can't save the world. Stop trying."

"Alan, I'm sorry, I am."

Alan pulled back and punched him right across the jaw, forcing his head to the side, hard enough to leave Sam's ears ringing.

"The fuck man! Why'd you do that?!"

"Clearly you wanted it, since you're trying to convince me you've destroyed my life. You want me to punch you again? Break your arm? I could do that, if it'd make you feel better," Alan was, without a doubt, a hundred percent serious.

"No, no, that's alright." He sighed, "I won't come after you again."

"Good. Are you going to get over it? Try and maybe live a normal life, then? Next time you try and follow us, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to convince him to turn you again. Got it?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I get it."

"Cool!" He laughed, slapping Sam on the shoulder, "I'll call you when we're settled somewhere. I don't think I'll ever be able to come back to Santa Carla, but I promise I'll try to keep Ed human. I'm still _me_ , Sam. Just in case you were wondering. Pretty sure your brother's still your brother, too."

Alan left him there to stew in his thoughts. He'd never felt like a bigger idiot.

* * *

"Your brother and corn-chips are in here, well, undead corn-chips." David stopped in front of the hotel, looking up, "Second floor." He strode inside, heading for the stairs. Michael followed on his heels. It hadn't been a very long trip. The idiot brigade apparently didn't travel fast. He could sense the bad mood emanating from his fledgling even now. Putting him in his place had only put off the inevitable, he was going to have to take the time when this was over to show Michael exactly what his place was.

The sight they were met with was laughable. Sam was bound with several cords of window shade threads and a crude rope fashioned from strips of motel sheets. His face was bloodied and bruised. The scent of that vampire was fading, along with the corn chip brigade. Michael shouldered past him with an angry huff.

"Sam, you dick, I-" He drew to a halt, shoving a hand over his face and hissing at the scent of fresh blood. He hadn't fed tonight. The hunger would be irresistible. His anger only fueled it even more.

David laid a hand on his shoulder, "Feeling hungry?" He asked softly before looking at Sam, "Want me to step in? Take some of it?" He did promise not to step in unless he had to. As amusing as it would be to watch him tear into the little prick.

"Yes," Michael snapped, turning his back on a whimpering Sam. He'd been way too slow for his little brother not to catch sight of his eyes and fangs in their full glory.

David slid his fingers through his hair briefly before drawing on that hunger, pulling it to him, he knew how to control himself after all, "Alright, do your thing."

Sighing, some of the tension in Michael's shoulders slackened, "thanks." He rounded on his little brother, face slowly reverting into the human facade, "Sam. What...the...everloving...fuck? Are...have you gone completely insane this time?! I should kick your ass. Looks like someone else took care of it for me," he knelt down in front of his brother, taking Sam's chin in his hand and turning his head to the side as he inspected his face. He wasn't gentle. The scent would still be driving him a little crazy, putting Michael on edge, but the worst of it was gone. For now.

Sam took in a hiss of air, "I thought I could save him! Alan...Edgar…"

"Oh yeah? How did that work out?" Michael drawled, pulling back and slowly beginning to untie the knots binding his brother to the chair. His temper boiling beneath the surface. He was jerky, rough as he worked. Occasionally making his brother flinch when he'd yank at one particular strip of sheet or chord a little too hard.

"Not so well, I...I give up." He sighed, "I can't save anyone."

"You don't need to," Michael shrugged. "Looks like it's the other way around to me, right now. I'm either going to have to move in with you and keep a fucking eye on you every waking moment, or you're going to have to make some changes, Sam. Which is it gonna be?"

David scowled, like hell Michael would be moving in with Sam, that wasn't going to happen. Hopefully Sam would make the right choice here and he wouldn't force David's hand.

"Like what kind of changes?" He hissed as Michael gave a particularly vicious tug.

"You do what you promised me, Sam. You go back to school. You _stay home with mom._ Grow up, for Christ's sake. You're the only one of us who even has that option. Enjoy it, dumbass. I'm not kidding, either. I find out you're not doing exactly what I'm telling you, I'm going to clear out your closet and move in." The way Michael was pressing the issue made David a little irritated.

David did not look happy and Sam was going to capitalize on that it seemed, "Yeah, your boss doesn't look too happy with that idea."

Michael drew back as he pulled away the last binding, scowling, "he's not my boss, you little prick…"

"Then what is he? I mean, yeah, I'm gonna go back to school, I'm gonna stay with mom, but still, I don't think he's gonna let you move into my closet."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Sam...I'm tired of fighting you. I don't want every conversation we have to be an argument, okay? Drop it."

David glared at the blonde, stopping anything else he was going to say, "Yeah, alright, I'm sorry."

"...Alright…" Michael nodded slowly, climbing to his feet. "Tell mom you ran into a door or something. We need to be getting back."

Sam rubbed his wrists slowly, "That asshole tied me really tight. If I see him again…"

"You won't." David growled, "And if you do, no one will ever find your body."

Michael remained silent, giving David a pointed glare.

* * *

They lingered behind to watch Sam pull out of the parking lot with a screech. Michael nursed a cigarette, letting a breath of smoke ascend into the air with a relaxed sigh. "Thought I was going to have to get into a fight," he remarked, glancing over at David. Finally seeming to take note that the older vampire wasn't exactly in a very good mood now. "What's with you?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, taking a hard drag off his own cigarette.

"You look pissed."

He took another drag, "You're not leaving." He stated.

Michael quirked an eyebrow, "when did I say I was?" He paused, realization slowly dawning on him. "Dude, I was just making a point. No way in hell I want to live in Sam's closet. Way too cramped in there."

"Making a point or not, you're not leaving. I get you wanna visit, but you're not one of them. It pisses me off." He stated calmly.

Michael rolled his eyes, dropping his cigarette on the pavement and crushing it under his boot, "right. Got it. You're in charge, David." He was almost dismissive in the way he said it.

David growled lowly, "You don't get it, do you?"

"...Get what? We agreed I'd move in. I moved in. I even killed. You got what you wanted, I don't see why you're getting bitchy." He stepped away from the railing to head towards their bikes.

"You're mine." He stated as if that should explain everything, "You need to understand your place in the pack and I'm going to have to show it to you."

That made Michael stop in his tracks. Slowly, he turned around to face David with a confused, somewhat wary expression, "... _what_?"

"I didn't stutter, did I? Thought I was pretty clear. You. Are. Mine." With that he was on him, kissing him hard and deep, nipping at his lips only to soothe them with his tongue. Michael's eyes snapped open in surprise, an indignant retort frozen in his mouth before he could even get the words out. He drew his hands up to shove David away, but the mingling of his own blood with the blonde's as he instinctively bit down in turn was too much for him. Instead of pushing him away, he gripped at the lapels of David's duster and pulled him closer, groaning into his mouth, fangs in stark evidence as David's tongue brushed against them.

David's fingers threaded into his hair, holding him firmly as he nicked his tongue against his fangs, letting him taste the blood as it flowed past his lips. He pressed his body tight against him, rocking slightly as he nipped and sucked at his lips and tongue.

Michael finally managed to pull away far enough to take in gulps of air he didn't need, " _you_ _bastard_ _,"_ he grumbled in David's mind, only to lean back against him and push his Sire back against the wall of the building, just beside the door of the motel room they'd emerged from, pulling him in for another bruising kiss. The combination of the blood and the tight press of their bodies together was making him dizzy.

" _Fuck, Michael, going to take you places you've never been."_ He pulled back from his lips, giving them a soft lick as he rocked their hips together. He needed to take this back inside, a bed would be nice. His hand fumbled for the door knob, pulling it open with a sharp jerk before spinning them inside. The lingering scent of the other vampires added an edge to the whole thing, a slight hint of anger on top of an already fevered temper.

He'd never done shit like this with a guy, and while Michael may have debated with himself if he were in a more sobered state-of-mind, right now things had gone just a little too far for him to listen to those conflicting thoughts, as he kicked off his shoes and gave David a firm shove to push him down onto the bed, the springs and mattress squeaking in protest.

David grinned up at him, kicking his own boots off before sliding off his coat and shirt, "Come on, Michael, get over here." He growled softly, beckoning him close again.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Michael snapped back, yanking his jacket off and proceeding to pull his shirt above his head. Once he'd gotten that out of the way, he crawled down onto the bed and straddled the blonde, glaring down at him with a mixture of arousal and a worked-up temper.

The blonde chuckled softly, "Oh, I'll tell you what to do." He grabbed his hips and flipped him over, pinning him to the bed and kissing him again, hard and deep, "Enjoy yourself." He ordered.

His hands slid down his sides, massaging his skin, leaning down and holding the kiss as he divested him of his pants. Michael growled deep in his throat, biting David's bottom lip sharply enough to draw blood, before quickly lapping it up as he shifted beneath him and reached down to impatiently tug at the blonde's fly.

David was more than happy to help, tugging at both of their pants, working them down until they were both naked, "Fuck." David's mouth watered as he took in the vampire beneath him, "You're fucking perfect." He growled, kissing him again, giving their hips a slow rock together.

Michael squirmed beneath him, raising his hips slightly as David's length slid against his own, reaching up to grip the back of the older vampire's head, licking along his teeth in an effort to devour every last drop of blood that had seeped around the healed cut on his bottom lip, "faster," he complained gruffly as he pulled back, still glaring up at David. Like he wanted to devour the bastard.

He gave a sharp thrust of his hips, "Next time, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you forget your name." He promised, rocking faster against him, chasing the edge. His fingers gripped at Michael's hips, urging him to rock with him. Michael complied, but it just wasn't _enough,_ and he shifted beneath David, trying to get enough leverage to flip him over and take control.

David growled lowly, if he wanted it, well, David could give it. He shifted his hips, his tip rubbing over his hole as he gave a thrust against it, not slipping inside but rocking over it, putting pressure, enough that he could feel it, a promise to slide inside if he wanted to. The brunette sighed in frustration, letting his head fall back against the pillow, " _do it,"_ he urged, though being on this end of the spectrum wasn't exactly how he imagined the night going.

If that was what Michael wanted, David would give it to him. He gave his hips a sharp thrust forward, his tip sliding into him, " _Goddammit, shit."_ He gave another thrust, sliding in deeper sinking into him, one hand sliding down and wrapping around his length, giving it a firm stroke as he pressed in deeper.

" _Fuck!"_ Michael gave a sharp cry, afraid to move, afraid to actually speak.

David panted softly before biting into his tongue and kissing him, letting the wound drip past his lips as he gave his hips another little thrust. Slowly, Michael wrapped his arms around David's back, nursing at the wound in his tongue, focusing on the taste of his sire's blood, which sang more vibrantly than any human's could, tasted so much richer. Half-lidded golden eyes blinked up at him hazily when Michael finally began to relax, his cock twitching in David's hand as he gave a tentative thrust of his own.

The blonde groaned softly, starting to move in earnest. His hand stroking with the same tempo as his hips, his free hand fisting into brunette curls, tugging his head forward so Michael's mouth was pressed against his throat, "Bite." He panted, wanted to feel his teeth in his throat.

Michael's tongue darted out to line the skin where David's pulse would be if he were still alive, before sinking sharp fangs deep into the pale flesh. The moment that first mouthful hit his tongue, he was groaning against David's neck, claws in evidence and embedding themselves into the blonde's back. A low growl escaped David's lips as he moved faster, his hips snapping forward, taking him, claiming him. He was so very close, it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge but he wanted Michael to fall over first. No sooner had he thought this, Michael was tensing beneath him again, biting deeper into his neck as he came. David howled out his release, his hips giving one more solid thrust forward. He panted heavily, laying over him, stroking through his hair, smiling down at him.

"Damn good, Michael."

He pulled back from David's neck, resting his head on the pillow beneath him and groaning, "...shit...this is going to fucking hurt tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Probably, not horribly, you'll be mostly healed." He paused briefly, "It's gonna hurt when I pull out though."

Michael scowled, "could've told me in the first place." He stifled a yawn.

He let out a snort, "You practically demanded I fuck you." He gave him a soft kiss, "Gonna have to head back. Can't stay here for the day."

"Mmh," Michael nodded, "still pissed off at Sam. Think I'm gonna wait a week before I visit and check up on him…" He paused, cracking an eye open and watching David's reaction, "his closet smells like dead animals and mothballs. You honestly think I'd want to live there?"

He shrugged, "Never can tell with you, always have to be clear."

"You're paranoid."

David raised one eyebrow, "you tried to kill me."

"8 years ago. You deserved it. Not sorry," Michael shrugged with a sardonic half-smile.

* * *

Sam sighed, stirring another packet of sugar into his coffee. He was tired, was ready for this nightmare to be over. Michael had made a valid point, now he just had to follow through. Liberal Arts. That could be a good starting major. Far away from the morbid fascination with death he'd pretty much been hooked on since high school.

"Would you like a short stack?" The server at the counter smiled at him knowingly, as if she could somehow read his mind. For all she knew, he'd had a bad breakup or gone on a bender and was just now feeling the bad part. "On the house, honey," she added.

He gave her a wry smile, "Sure, thanks, I could use that."

Half past midnight, and he'd have to hit the road soon. Get home. Tell mom he was sorry for being a shit of a son for pretty much the last 8 years in total. Write an apology note to Mike and leave it at that shit-hole he called a home now, because no way in Hell did Sam plan on sticking around to risk his neck talking to the rest of them again. There was a lot to do. He just wished he could see Ed and Alan again, wished everything could go back to normal.

In a manner of speaking, when the door swung open to the diner, and the bell chimed above it, Sam got his wish but he never wanted to see the vampire that was with them. Nor was he too excited when he noted Alan leaning up against the door and quietly turning the lock behind him. Shit. Sam pushed his coffee away and tried to duck below the stool he was perched on to avoid being scene. Because screaming 'EVERYBODY GET THE FUCK OUT NOW, THERE'S A COUPLE OF SHIT-SUCKERS IN THE BUILDING' somehow didn't really seem like the smartest plan.

"Ahh, Samuel." Quinten smiled, the fucker actually smiled at him, "Just the young man I was hoping to see."

Alan set eyes on Sam, and just barely restrained himself from comically slapping his own forehead, giving Sam a very exasperated look. Explaining that them both being here right now at the same time was just an insanely bad coincidence on his part probably wasn't going to do him any good. "Uh...I don't think I'll take those pancakes," he whispered up at the server behind the counter, who was giving him a very concerned frown.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ran - Psssst. Kage. I think there's a sequel coming…
> 
> Kage - I dunno...you think we can manage it? I suppose we did kind of leave Sam in a bad place…
> 
> Ran - Hold on, let me just get the list of methods to torture Sam, and make sure we've got them all...nope, still a few more options here. Yep, gotta do it.


End file.
